Carnage and Bloodshed
by sydneysages
Summary: Nobody is safe. Everything they have known could end, right here, right now. Not even Claire's relationship is guaranteed: after all, nobody is. In the end, it will come down to luck, plain and simple. Sequel to Struggles With What's Right And What I Want
1. Chapter 1

_I don't own anything_

_If you're a new reader, I'd recommend reading the last story - Struggles With What's Right And What I Want_

_& I don't think there's a need for a recap of the last story, so on with it!_

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><p><em>Claire's POV:<em>

I wake up with a bang in the middle of someplace where I have never been before; it isn't even someplace which I could have seen on the television; it's entirely alien to me, a foreign place which holds no place in my memory. I could be absolutely anywhere right now, and I wouldn't have a clue. Am I even still alive? What _happened_ to me? Oh God, what if I _am_ dead? Oh God...

I sit upright in the middle of a grassy plane, flowers around me in beautiful patterns, not a single weed or stray flower out of place. It seems extremely peaceful as I look around, before I realise something with a heavy heart: the sun is out. I am not burning up, as a vampire as young as I ought to in the sun – just thinking, I have already been here for a good three or four minutes, not knowing how long I have been unconscious. This doesn't bode well for the "I'm still alive but have just been magically transported to another place" theory that's just been floating around in my head.

I could be dead. That's pleasant. I stand up and look down at my clothing, and see a plain white silk dress, which is _definitely_ not something I would wear. It would be more suited to… _she is so dead_! If we aren't dead already, I am going to _kill_ that woman: she collapsed, so I collapsed as well, and if she is dead, I am betting my ass on the fact that I am in the same predicament as she is.

Well, it seems that I'm dead, since I'm in a weird place where I've never been before, and I'm wearing something that looks as if it's came out of Amelie's wardrobe from about seven hundred years ago. So, in conclusion, being dead sucks.

Fury igniting itself in my brain, I scan the park to look for her, but it seems as if it is entirely empty of people. Where _am_ I? What has happened to me to end up in such a beautiful, yet, devoid of human life location?

"Child, I am right here," Amelie's voice comes from behind me and I whirl around, my hand over my immobile heart in shock. Something seems different about her appearance – oh, right, it is because she no longer has the bump that pregnancy brought her. She is back to looking in all glory, her hair tied back in a tight bun whilst she is wearing a dress identical to mine in all but colour. Her dress is of champagne colouring and compliments her hair colour perfectly… _what the hell am I doing, thinking that she looks good_! She could have killed me, here!

"Where are we?" I snap at her, forgoing any politeness and such because, hello, I think I'm dead. "Don't mess with me, Amelie. Don't bother holding back any information as you normally do because, hello, I think I'm dead and I _don't_ want to be dead. Okay?" I yell right in her face but she doesn't seem to care; she takes it without even blinking. That indicates to me that there's something going on, some other factor at play in a game where I'm merely a pawn, someone who doesn't know _anything._

"Come with me, Claire, and I will explain everything," she says quietly, looking me directly in the eyes. I see sorrow and pain, regret and _fear _in her grey orbs and relax slightly, knowing that she doesn't want to be here either. So I nod slowly and she smiles very slightly before placing her hand on her back and wincing – why is she doing that? However, I'm sure I shall get to find out. I hope. With Amelie, anything could happen: one second she could be telling me everything that's going on, the next she could be explaining to me differences in dialect in pre-Alfred the Great times in England.

So we walk across the park, both of us rejoicing in the sunlight which she has not been in for one thousand and eighty six years - enjoyably at least - to a swinging bench. I sit down and she does the same, ensuring she's completely facing me as she crosses a leg underneath herself. It is such a relaxed and informal pose that it catches me off guard for a moment, especially as she turns her head to admire the sun.

"Such wonders the sun brings us," she muses, probably about to begin a pointless philosophical conversation with herself. As I most _certainly_ am not going to indulge in her ramblings, when she could have killed me! "It brings life to all living beings, even vampires; for, you see, if we didn't have the sun then humans could not live… don't you see the wondrousness of it? The beauty, the warmth… these are the things I miss about being human, being able to be in the sun," she continues, creating a idealistic thought process as I imagined she would.

"Cut the sun talk, Amelie, and get to the point," I snap once again, not even regretting it as she turns to look at me with a hard face. Yet her expression softens as I continue, "Please… I just want to know why I am here. I want to go back home."

She takes my hand in both of hers tightly and focuses her attention on me entirely, her eyes already running with tears. Something about her expression indicates I am not going to like what she is going to say. Then again, when _do_ I like what Amelie ever tells me?

"We are connected through our family tree, so if one of us is close to death, the other will follow – this can only happen if there are only two people in the entire lineage, I believe" she begins softly. "I am close to death, so you came with me to this place where I can tell you everything I never told you when I was alive… at least, this is my theory. It isn't exactly a tested hypothesis, but this is what I have concluded," she continues, smiling slightly.

"But… but that means that you are-" I begin, trailing off as the fear hits me that I could be right. She smiles slightly before continuing with her piece.

"I feared that this would happen, as soon as I found out I was pregnant: I have never known of a pregnancy with two vampires, as we are the only ones with the gene, and therefore the chances of me having enough strength were low. Yet I dealt with this, keeping from Sam how I felt death creeping over me, stealing me away from this world. I pretended that I was better than I was so that he wouldn't worry… as he wouldn't be able to do anything but feel guilt," she says, and it hits me that she has been pretending for this entire time that she was better than she actually was.

Tears begin to drip down my own cheeks, mirroring hers, and I shake my head. "You should have _told_ him… or me… we're related, you're supposed to _tell_ me things!" I burst out and, this time, she shakes her head, not me. I look away from her and cast my gaze to my pressed together knees, not really looking since the mirage of tears is blocking my clarity of sight, just desperate to get the image of _he__r_ out of my head. It isn't Amelie. It's a broken woman, someone who can feel, someone who has reasons for doing what she's done - because she's wanted to protect us. And that's something that's worse than being lied to just because she didn't want to share her information.

"No, Claire, I am the elder, I am supposed to _protect_ you from these things, not have you shoulder my burden," she says gently, her voice shaking from the pain in it. "I shouldn't have had to tell you; I didn't want you to be worrying about it… it was my choice not to tell anyone, so please don't stress as to why I didn't tell you," she continues, the tears sliding down her cheeks thickening with every word. Soon, they're a steady stream that refuse to let up, silvery rivulets tracing their way down her cheeks; apparently, even vampires can be affected by enzymes.

"So you are dying," I state simply, my voice trembling as I acknowledge this. Amelie, the strongest person I know, is dying. My last living relative is dying and going to leave me. "No, you _can't!_ We cannot have a life without you, Sam will be destroyed! He won't...he won't do _anything. _Morganville… please, Amelie, Oliver _can't_ have Morganville – it wouldn't work _at all_!" I stress, sobbing as the thought of no Amelie. She _is_ Morganville; without Amelie, there is no purpose in the town. She is it; she breathes life and soul into it, has made it what it is today, and it's all down to her - true, we have aided her, yet, without her will and determination, none of this would exist.

She pulls me into her arms and it reminds me of the times when my mother comforted me as I was distraught about menial, trivial things – nothing could _ever_ have been as bad as a mother dying when she thought she never would, especially when she is leaving behind a child – which could also have died.

"You will not have to worry about Oliver ruling, because _you_ are the person I decided to leave Morganville to," she whispers into my ear, stunning me so greatly that my tears stop as I stare into her face. "I could never leave my _town_ in the hands of someone like Oliver, but you are my kin: I can trust you… as for Sam… this isn't my choice, Claire, evidently it is what God wants me to do. I can only follow fate," she shrugs it off, but I see the pain in her eyes at leaving her husband and child.

But what she has said has struck a nerve with me. I stand up and stare at her, agog that she could think that. "You believe in fate," I say simply. "How bloody old _are_ you? Jeez, Amelie, you may have "found" religion or something in your youth, but that doesn't mean that _science_ or something isn't more powerful than God… he doesn't decide if you live or die – that's up to you! If you have the strength to keep fighting, then you live. If you have the determination to fight for what you want, then you live. So don't blame fate, Amelie. You are giving up yourself, not anyone else making the decision for you."

All she does is nod. For a moment or two, she moves her head in an upwards motion, then down at the same speed, avoiding eye contact with me. For the brief time I see her eyes, I see that they're clouded with confusion, indecision, _loss_ before, finally, peace. And this is, perhaps, the most disturbing emotion of all.

"That is your belief; I have my own, albeit it very different to your own" she sighs and I know I have no chance of changing her mind here. Those born prior to the 1900s are religious, it seems, and Amelie is no exception; she will not bend for her faith. "Yet, in regards to Oliver…" she begins but trails off before finishing the thought.

"Yes?" I question slightly harshly, but if she is going to insist on giving up I need to get into the role as being head of this town...she's giving me no choice, after all. It's literally been: "oh yes, Claire, I'm dead. Sorry about that. You're now in charge of everything as you're my descendant. Sorry about that as well. Oh, and watch out for Oliver, he's a prat." Also known as, not good, because how the hell do I control Morganville?

"He is, deep down although you may not believe it, a good man who is wise and stays true to his beliefs, his promises," she surprises me by saying – I thought she was going to give me a warning about him! That's Amelie for you - always full of surprises...albeit not particularly helpful surprises. "He is a good man to keep on your side, Claire… before my father came, we quarrelled, but it was put into perspective after our lives were turned upside down. Do not fear him, for he is on our side entirely and will prove this time and time again in the future," she continues, closing her eyes deeply. It's as if she is praying for him, for some mission that he is going to take… yet there is nothing, is there? There is absolutely nothing going on besides this… unless she means in terms of looking after her child… I cannot be sure.

"So that's it," I state without emotion inflicting my voice. I hold back the tears to stare her down, my eyes noticing how she is rubbing her back still, and my brain considering whether or not I could do something about that when I get back. "You're giving up. You are going to let Sam suffer without you, when you made sure he came back from the dead, so to speak, so that you didn't lose him. You're being selfish and not fighting simply because you think it is fate. Do you not _love_ your child at all?" I snap at her, trying to hurt her so that she will fight with me, fight to get back to the world of the living and out of this strange inbetween land we are in.

Fight to do _anything_. As that's all I want, for her to come back. She _need _to come back.

She stands to face me and I am only slightly taller than her with both of us in bare feet. Yet I use my strength and new found power to challenge her, to see what she will do if I try and _make _her return with me...and she backs down instantly. That is _so_ not what I wanted to happen. "You are right, Claire. I am giving up. I cannot fight any longer… I fought death for nine months, but I have been fighting it ever since I was born. It is just time to concede defeat. Of _course_ I love my child, I have since I found out I was expecting it. Yet… I am sure that they will be happier without my constant bad luck clouding them. Everything bad happens to _me,_ Claire, not anyone else. You think everything started when you came to town, but that was mere coincidence - I have never had an entire year of my life which has been happy. So, I give up. I'm throwing in the towel, I think you say, nowadays, and am merely letting someone else decide my fate."

I growl at her, but she holds her ground, not reacting besides to pull me in for another hug. Her face is suddenly covered in fresh tears and I sob into her shoulder, pleading with her, _begging_, for her not to leave me, for her to come back with me.

"Hush, child, everything will work out – whether it be that I return in my own time… or, if I don't, then everything happens for a reason. Remember that, my Granddaughter," she whispers into my ear as I feel the tug back to the land of the living. I am returning, returning as the new Founder of Morganville, the new head vamp even though I am the youngest of us all.

"Come with me, I'm sure if you will it to you can come with me!" I urge as I begin to disappear back, my legs beginning to disappear just like magic. It's the strangest feeling, my heart being torn from me because it wants to stay here, with Amelie, at the same time as my body returning to the waking world.

Yet she shakes her head and takes a step back, her eyes glistening with the tears already spilling down her cheeks. "I love you, Claire, and I love Sam and my child. Please pass this on," she says, before turning away. She doesn't say another word, or even look at me; she just walks away.

"NO!" I scream as the distance between us increases, her head hung in shame. "No, you can come back! Amelie, please! Fight, fight as you know you can. Please, do it for me, for Sam, for your baby, for Myrnin, for _whatever_ will make you do it!"

She turns back to me as I am almost invisible and shakes her head, a wry smile on her lips. "I can't, Claire," she says, and it is almost a whisper. She turns her attention to the sun and smiles as she basks in its beautiful rays. "I'm not coming back…"

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><p><em>So, what did you think of this chapter?<em>

_It's slightly ironic, actually, since I wrote this in Spain last April, and I'm going to Spain today, so..._

**_Don't _**_favourite/alert without reviewing. & I expect a healthy number of reviews for when I get back. About 15, basically._

_Vicky xx_


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

I'm sorry for the update; I promised myself I'd update every other story first, and then I sort of wrote some more oneshots and such.

if you happen to get ClaireMyrnin withdrawl symptoms & want some more from **me**, I have just started a new one called "Opposing Forces" and still continue to update "Fragile Web"

I don't own anything.

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><p><em>Claire's POV:<em>

How can she be so selfish? How can she not _want_ to come back to this world, or at least fight as damned hard as she can to get back?

I feel myself returning back to the world of the living, the world in which my Myrnin is, where Sam is and the baby Amelie is leaving behind. But surely I can do _something_; I can prove that science wins out over 'fate' and bring her back to the world of the living – so that she can be with her baby and Sam.

But what could be wrong with her? As I return, I desperately think of anything which could have caused her to collapse and be close to death, wondering whether or not the entire thing with her back could have any influence on this. After all, she did seem in pain – perhaps there is something there that is sort of suctioning on her power? I don't know… but I'm about to wake up…

My eyes flutter open as I realise I am in Myrnin's arms, his face frantic with worry for me. I struggle to sit upright, his arms helping me all the way, and I look at the clock – I've been gone less than a minute in standard time; it felt like hours I was sat with Amelie. But maybe time is different, wherever we were. I can't say we were in heaven because she is still technically here – she _must _still be alive. There can't be a chance that she is dead and I'm alive once again…it isn't possible.

"Turn her over," I whisper before Myrnin says anything, the relief that I have woken up already appearing on his face. Slowly, I get out of his arms and stand up to face Sam who looks more desolate and vexed than I could even begin to put into words. Something about his face reminds me of me and my face when I realised Amelie wasn't coming back, but a million times worse.

"What?" Sam says, evidently confused as to why I want her on her back when, hello, she is still in labour with her baby.

"Look, where I have been is pretty complicated… but Amelie was there," I say and his head snaps up from Amelie's face to look at me sharply. "I can't explain what went on, not yet anyway because we don't have the time, but I remember that she was _definitely_ in pain from her back so I think that that could be the possible way that we could find a way to bring her back," I continue, and before I have even finished, Sam and Myrnin are turning her over – carefully and quickly, since the baby is still in there and we need to get it out. But Sam and Myrnin could do that whilst I work on the way to bring back Amelie.

I lift her top up and gasp as I see something I never expected to see: her back is blackened and dead looking, evidently painful. How she only winced when she has this is absolutely amazing, but… could it be something maybe about the power she has being drained from her? I don't know what has caused it, but I can already think of a possible solution. It is stupid and completely idiotic, the likelihood of it working almost zero, because it doesn't make sense, even to me, but maybe it could work.

"Dear me, what is _that_?" Myrnin whispers as he spots what I am touching gently, pus coming out. Sam looks absolutely horrified and he helps Myrnin turn Amelie back over before just staring into space.

"Claire, tell me now, is she coming back?" he suddenly asks me, tears in his eyes. Slowly, I shake my head and he lets out a gasp of horror.

"She named me Founder, Sam, she said that she wanted me in charge – but I am fighting _so_ hard to get her back here," I say, moving across the room to look at the cures we made. I don't think any of them have what I need – I know they don't, but I need to try.

"Sam, we need to deliver the baby," Myrnin tells gently, making Sam's attention turn back to a still Amelie. I realise abstractly that the heartbeat is back – but there is definitely an echo. "In fact, is that?" he murmurs, evidently hearing the same thing I am.

I ignore him and Sam as they get a knife and prepare to cut Amelie open in order to get the baby out, a natural birth now impossible since Amelie is wandering around a field at the minute, revelling in the sunlight she hasn't been in for centuries. Of course…because that's what _everyone_ who has always wanted a child does – give up as easily as she has. So, just what can I do? I have a feeling that I need my blood to bring her back, since I now apparently have the power of the Founder – I don't, actually. She is still alive and I don't believe that she is going to die, but let's just say for all intense and purpose that I _am_ the Founder. I think that my blood is going to be needed, especially if my theory about Amelie losing power through that black hole thing that I cannot even _begin_ to explain is true.

But what else can be used? I doubt that lavender or anything else we used to calm her down will help… but maybe the strengthening stuff we have in the lab that got put into one of the cures can help, or even the vitamins since the black thing doesn't seem to be too healthy. I doubt that it's to do with nutrition, though; carrying her flesh and blood, even as the strongest vampire in the world, has left her near dead, closer to a human than she ever has been since she was turned. Power isn't within her anymore; she needs to be _given_ it, given it to ensure that she doesn't perish.

But more power will be needed – much more than I potentially have – and I think I know _just_ where I can get it. Oliver. He has to help – he needs Amelie here, as I am no _way_ going to be as lenient towards him if I have to be the Founder. No, I would come down on him like a tonne of bricks.

"Be right back," I whisper, but they don't seem to notice, more absorbed with cutting into Amelie's stomach. I wince as I hear the sound of metal cutting into her flesh, hoping that it will have healed by the time I am back, showing how she is actually still here with us. If it hasn't, then it just shows that there's even _less_ chance that I'll be able to save her.

**.**

"Claire, is everything ok? Something feels… different," Oliver says, evidently confused with everything that is going on as I burst through the portal into his office. There's a look on his face that reminds me of someone being worried for their grandchildren, which doesn't make _that_ much sense, but perhaps it does…he's close to all of us, and he can tell there's something wrong. Either by the "air" or the "power" or whatever, or probably just by the expression on my face, but he can tell that things aren't going to plan.

"Amelie is dying," I say bluntly, and his face pales to beyond the colour of bone, the pallor it usually has. "I need your blood in a way that can possibly bring her back, but I'm not sure. I need to just try this first… please, don't mess with me Oliver and give me the blood now," I continue, tears in my eyes as I process just how desperate I am. I need this – I need him to give me one thing that Amelie needs without an argument.

"Amelie cannot die – I couldn't cope with you being the ruler," he shrugs, his fangs already sinking down in order to rip open his wrist. "Claire, have you a box or something to put this in? As it would be preferable for me not to have my own blood over my office floor," he asks, but I don't laugh at his attempt at humour. He doesn't seem to want to laugh either, and I get the idea that he's only doing this to try and alleviate a little of the tension and pressure that the situation has brought about. It really doesn't seem right that he didn't argue whatsoever; normally, I would have expected he wouldn't allow me his blood without a good hour long argument. I don't have the inclination to laugh at his joke, though; it's too stressful – I don't know what is going on but it isn't good, I can tell you that. _Anything_ where Amelie is possibly dying and leaving her town to _me_ isn't good!

"Sure, put it in this," I say, handing over one of the boxes that I picked up from the side as I ran out of Amelie's room. He obliges, and I tap my foot impatiently as he waits for it to fill halfway up – to need more than that would be a slightly bigger problem than we're already facing. "Thanks," I gesture to the box as he hands it to me before running back to the portal.

"Claire." Oliver's voice makes me stop and turn back; it seems so full of worry for Amelie. "There are things in motion that must be continued. Please do everything you can to bring her back," he almost seems as if he… no, that's ridiculous, right? It can't be that he…and her…no…that's absurd. He must mean some stupid, little council thing, I bet.

"I already am," I reply with a tight smile before dashing through the portal and back to Amelie and Sam's house. Here, I go as fast as I can back to Amelie and Sam and Myrnin, to find a shocking sight, something I would never, not in one million years, have expected to see. "Whoa… am I seeing double?"

Sam turns to look at me from Amelie, a look of amazed incredulity but also delight on his face. "No, one of each… she had twins!" he exclaims, holding the girl in his arms. Myrnin is still delivering the other baby, the boy I presume, so I don't stop to appreciate the beauty of the baby in his arms. But…that makes sense…the echo, the way that I thought I could hear an echo before; she must have known, and Myrnin must have presumed, but nobody bothered to tell me. _That_ makes sense…but it's too happy a situation now to be angry at information being withheld; there's a chance that Amelie could survive.

"That's great… well, give me a minute," I mutter, moving across the room back to the portal to dart into the lab and get the things I was going to use in another cure thing for Amelie but going to use to bring her back. _Nothing_ is impossible, nothing. I will manage this and she will be back with her _babies_, not baby, (I guess that that was the echo thing, another heartbeat… but how did Amelie, Sam, Myrnin and Oliver miss that?) before she knows it. No more moping in no man's land for Amelie, no she will be back here and biting our heads off, the Amelie we know and love.

I return and use the unit which contains Sam's clothes to set everything out on. Myrnin seems to be having a little of a problem with getting the baby out, or maybe he is stalling so that we can insert the thing I'm making right now right into her bloodstream above her heart; it will get it around faster, even though her heart doesn't beat, and give her a better chance to fight.

I get a clean pot and pour about half of Oliver's blood into it, adding every vitamin possible to the mix. Then I add all of the strengthening stuff before ripping open my own wrist and adding blood until the pot is almost entirely full. This is all I can do: this is our only shot – she is still here, barely, and if I give her this now, she should come back.

If she doesn't, she isn't coming back.

"Here!" I cry, carefully running across the room just as Myrnin gets the baby out – a boy, smaller than the girl: he was probably the weaker of the two in there. I don't say anything though, as Sam looks amazed at the sight of his second son, his third child, whilst Myrnin turns to look at me with a worried expression.

"She is barely here, we need to act quickly and this is our only chance – what is in it?" he motions to the pot and I quickly explain exactly what I put in. "Good, there is a great deal of power in there. Give it to her, now," he says, and I pour half of it into her stomach, which heals up instantly: this has to be working! "And I shall turn her slightly, so you can apply it to her back with your fingers – don't be sparing, we can always make more if we have to. This is working, Claire, you are a _genius_!" he exclaims in delight, already rolling Amelie onto her side.

Something about her already seems less fragile, less breakable as if she is returning to being Amelie pre-pregnancy. I dab the tonic thing onto her back, whilst Myrnin fills a syringe with it and plunges it directly into her heart, watching in marvel as it heals up as I watch it. I turn to look at Sam whilst Myrnin returns Amelie to her back and see he is entirely focused on Amelie. He may be holding two babies – both of which are crying, I believe though I can't hear it – but he is entirely focused on his wife. Whilst a part of his face is still overjoyed at having the children, he is explicitly worried for Amelie.

Myrnin takes the remnants of the tonic thing from me and pours it into Amelie's mouth. He then shuts her jaw and we hear the sound of her swallowing, a thankful sound to us all – it shows she is _definitely_ still here. She hasn't left.

For an agonisingly long minute, we all stand still, unable to move as we wait. Even the babies are quiet, which is a miracle for them to understand – or it could just be coincidence.

Amelie takes a deep breath inwards and slowly… slowly, her eyelids flutter open.

She didn't leave.

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><p><span>an2: <span>I'd appreciate it if you didn't favourite/alert/read without reviewing; it does get a little irritating.

Did you really think I'd kill Amelie? _Of course_ she was always coming back!

Vicky xx


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3:**

**AN: **I don't own anything.

Strange, but I wrote this chapter over a year ago. I edited it out a bit.

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><p><em>Claire's POV: <em>

Her eyes fully open and she lets out a gasp before they focus out. I can't explain how fast she moves when she seems to realise that she is _here _and not in the world of the dead. She blurs to sitting upright as Sam reaches her, pressing his lips to hers with force before she looks into his eyes, his free arm wrapping around her tightly.

"Twins?" she asks, agog at this information. He nods, beaming hugely, and she takes the boy from him, staring into his face as if she can't believe that he is here. Then she looks up at me and Myrnin and smiles before saying, "Twins? Surely you two would have known that?"

We shake our heads but she doesn't seem bothered; rather, she seems ecstatically happy that this happened. It's almost as if she hasn't just tried to die, and had the near death experience, because there's something about Amelie_ now_ that makes her seem almost normal.

"That means we can name one each, Amelie, and get by the whole name debate," Sam says with a grin, sitting on the bed next to her, his voice soft. Something in his expression seems to say that he hasn't ever been happier, and I can understand why: not only has he received two children, but the woman he has loved for however long _isn't_ dead.

"Who was born first?" she asks, motioning for Sam to hand her the girl whilst he takes the boy from her. Myrnin's arms wrap around me and I smile, unable to comprehend just how beautiful this moment is; it isn't ours, but it's still special all the same, and I don't think that I would miss this for the world.

"The little monster you're holding was born at 12:01pm and our little boy was born at 12:09pm," Sam informs her, his face shining as he tells her this information. I smile wider at this, especially since Myrnin is kissing my cheek/neck softly, but hinting at something which I want as well - we've had to be working non-stop (so no time for...) for two months for Amelie, and it turns out all the work was rendered unnecessary!

I get the feeling that this ought to be a moment for just the new family, and Myrnin gets it at the same time as me, so we begin to walk backwards, Myrnin saying, "Be back later... Unless you die again!"

Amelie looks up and shoots him a look, but it's ruined by the adoration and love in her face brought about by her family's existence. Then she smiles and nods her head. "Thank you, both of you," she whispers, a tear in her eye. "Claire... I'm sorry about before, in that place. I was wrong and you were right," she continues, and I bow my head gracefully, acknowledging what she's said. Somehow, simultaneously to everything else going on, I feel the power I held for mere minutes draining away from me and back to Amelie, something for which I am grateful - I couldn't cope with being the Founder.

"Yep well, we'll back in a couple of hours, or whatever, _ring_ when you want us," I specify ringing and _not _popping over in the portal because, well, I don't want her or Sam walking in on us like before.

"Bye," Sam says but he isn't paying attention; he's looking at Amelie and their children, a happy family, finally.

We head through the portal and slam it shut, making sure there is no way it could still be open, so no way for us to be embarrassed. Once here, I wrap my arms around his neck and just relax, feeling the tension of the past hours drifting away from me as I realise it is all finally over. Finally, we can be ourselves and actually have a proper time as a newly married couple, rather than having to work constantly and be stressed for Amelie.

"Everything can be normal now, can't it?" I confirm as his arms snake behind me, pulling me closer to him.

"I hope so," he whispers, his lips already at my neck, brushing against the skin there in a ticklish fashion.

"God, do you think that we will actually be able to have a year in Morganville where there is _no_ drama?" I marvel at the possibility _that we could actually relax_! We could actually just be ourselves and be free of the stress and worry we normally face.

"Now _that_," Myrnin murmurs to me softly. "That would be a blessing that I would love… if it lasts more than a week, I'll show you how well I can swim in the pool," he laughs at this for some strange reason, before suddenly whisking me off my feet and taking me through to our room, slamming the door shut behind us.

_~x~_

About two hours later, the phone rings – it's Amelie. I can tell from the fact it is her special ringtone, which I set so that I would know when _she_ calls, so that I never miss a phone call from her; the last time I did, it was pretty scary to be going to see her! I really wish that she would just _relax_ and realise people don't always have their phones – she doesn't sometimes – but that seems impossible. I can only hope actually having the chance to raise her child, sorry I mean child_ren_, will change her into a more normal person!

"Amelie, what's up?" I ask, leaning over Myrnin to reach the phone on the other side of the bed to where I lay.

"Whenever convenient, we would like you to come over," she says, with a smile evident in her voice.

"Sure, maybe twenty minutes or so?" I suggest, before a wail interrupts the call. _Ow_, they are a _really_ high pitched screamer – I'm hoping that's the girl, because if there were two of them at that pitch, I wouldn't want to be in that house. "Maybe it would be better in thirty?" I amend, not particularly wishing to be around a screaming duo of babies.

"No, no, twenty will be fine," she says hurriedly. "I'll make sure that they calm down," she continues, and I suppress a laugh, before agreeing to come over.

"We're going over," I sigh to Myrnin, rolling over and burying my face in his chest. His arms tighten around me and he holds me close to him for a long moment before releasing me.

"Best not be late, otherwise they could sic babysitting on us," he says grimly – he'd love it really! He's just a huge softie at heart, beneath the slightly crazy outer layer, so he'd love to babysit... I don't even know what they're called.

"I'm going!" I shift upright, climbing out of bed before he can pull me back. "Just because I wanna know just _how _much of a fit she put up to get the names she wanted!" I explain, as Myrnin pouts and tries to guilt me back to him. His curly brown hair is matted and flat and he looks like an unloved dog... Oliver'd love that! But he'll never find out because I'd never be as mean to Myrnin as to tell Oliver this. There are some levels I would never stoop to, and this is one of them, for sure.

Myrnin nods at my reasoning, getting up and moving across to his wardrobe to choose some clothes. "I am guessing that she threatened something and he caved so they'll be called something like Pauline and Jonas," he worries me - dammit, why does she have to be so _picky_? And old... And French! All those things are going to mean that I feel sorry for these kids throughout their lives, even though they'll end up being older than I am, physically at least.

"If she has, I rescind my acceptance as Godmother," I laugh, pulling out a blue dress from the wardrobe -I guess it's a good idea to go to such a big thing (to Amelie, especially) dressed well...after all, I don't fancy being shot for wearing jeans and a t-shirt.

The dress is knee length, midnight blue, and strapless: entirely irresistible to Myrnin, apparently, as he suddenly appears behind me and throws his hand in to stop me fully zipping it up.

"Excuse me?" I say, aghast at how _annoying_...Well, not really...I'm lying to myself again. Great, I'm now having a debate _with myself _about being philosophical and lying. This isn't strange at all! "I was under the impression I was _getting _dressed, not undressed! It's not my fault I don't have ridiculous vampire speed like you do, to already be dressed in _such _a perfect manner!" I continue, eyeballing his jeans and t-shirt (so normal compared to what he had before) with satisfaction. "Wait, why are _you_ not getting dressed up?"

"You. Are. Perfect," he murmurs into my ear, zipping the dress up in one effortless zip. His fingers against my skin are absolute perfection, sending electric jolts of tension through me until I remember we _do_ have somewhere to be…too late, I realise I asked him about why he's wearing what he is, but the tantalising feeling of his fingers on my skin distracts me from asking him.

"Later," I promise him, brushing my hair at the same time. He smiles before reaching over and nabbing my hairbrush from me _even though I am using it_! "Hey! Give me that back!" I cry out, reaching over to try and grab the brush back. But I fail; he simply dodges me and grabs my flailing wrist, throwing me backwards. I barely manage to right myself, holding onto the bed in order to stop myself falling onto the floor.

"I'm using it," he says unnecessarily, smiling his twinkling smile but it doing absolutely _nothing_ for me. I _hate_ him right now.

"Yeah, I can see that, _but I was using it first_!" I moan, crossing the room to the bathroom in order to use my back up brush, something which ought to never be used.

"Sorry, but my hair was a mess," he, once again, unnecessarily points out.

"Whatever," I sigh, tying my hair back in a messy knot, securing it with the hairpins that litter the bathroom cabinet since I can't be bothered to put them away. "Just know that you're not getting a kiss anymore," I inform him lightly as I walk back through to him, bypassing Myrnin as I bend closer to the mirror to apply my makeup.

"No kiss?" he confirms, agog at this information. "Why is that, may I ask?" he continues, moving closer to me. His arms begin to wrap around my waist but I manage to resist him…

"Ahah," I tell him, shifting away as I apply liquid eyeliner carefully. "You nicked my brush…therefore, you don't get any kisses. So there," I inform him of what he has done wrong in a matter of fact voice, at the same time as plumping up my lips with the shiny gloss I bought months ago, but haven't had a reason to use yet. It seems that this is the general consensus for everything nice in my wardrobe, including many, _many_ things Eve has bought me.

He's about to respond when my phone rings – _baby you're a heartbreaker, you're a heartbreaker_ sounds off… Michael.

"Yope, Michael, how's it going?" I ask him in a jokey tone, smiling as Myrnin pouts for being ignored. If I didn't know that he was like nine hundred and forty seven years old, I would have sworn he was one of the newborn babies.

"Are you coming over?" he asks – of course he would be there: these are his new… great aunt and uncle? I think that that is right; how _strange_! I think it'll be more like _he_ is their uncle or something… or just Michael, that's more likely. "Because Amelie seems to be getting pretty stressed that you don't want to be around smelly brats – Sam, I'm _joking_, remember I'm a dad as well!" he says before suddenly talking to Sam: I take it the whole 'smelly brats' thing didn't go down well with the new dad.

"Yeah, we're coming over literally…now!" I say 'now' as we emerge in Amelie and Sam's living room, which is also the living room of their new children, whatever their names are. "Sam! How are you?" I ask with a grin, reaching out to give him a hug as I see the ginger haired vampire standing before me.

He hugs me back before releasing me as I spot Amelie across the room, a baby in each arm, an expression on her face that I've never seen before. She looks…even more in love than I've even seen her look at Sam. "They're _so_ cute!" I squeal, rushing across the room to take one of them, something Amelie doesn't seem to mind, as she looks up at me with a smile. I take the girl, dressed in a pretty white babygro with pink piping, and tuck her gently into the corner of my arm, rocking her slightly. As I hold her, I can't help but think about what her name is, what god-awful name Amelie could have decided to name her…I fear that it's going to be Mavis. There's nothing _wrong_ with Mavis, and I'm sure that I could feign liking it, but _really_?

"So what are the names of my wonderful godchildren?" Myrnin, of course, has to steal what I was going to say. Just like he stole my hairbrush… typical.

Amelie looks at Sam with a smile, especially as his spare arm wraps around her waist: she doesn't look as if she gave birth _two fricking hours ago_! She looks like a supermodel… it's not fair, but then again, she's the only vampire ever to have given birth to children, and she wouldn't exactly keep the weight she put on, would she?

"I named the boy," Amelie says, and Myrnin groans theatrically. "Myrnin! I am _not_ going to give my child an awful name now, am I?" she rhetorically asks him but I get the sense that she is messing with him. Part of me wants her to say that she's naming it Myrnin, after him, and then to retract that, commenting on how awful a name his is, but that would be mean, wouldn't it?

"I remember what you insisted you would call a boy when we were in Elizabethan England," Myrnin says gravely, yet there is a slight edge to his tone that suggests he isn't really serious. "Come on, let's hear it so I can decide whether or not I wish to disown it," he continues, and we all laugh…oh yeah, this is his great (times about a dozen or two) grandson…and granddaughter. This must be so weird, just like it is for Amelie with me.

"Jullien Oliver Glass, Jullien meaning youthful," she says with a smile…_what_? Was that _Oliver_? As in _Oliver_? The person who kept trying to steal her power but then realised she was more powerful and had more sway, so succumbed to her and seems almost in _love_ with her? _That_ Oliver?

"Oliver?" I confirm with a smile plastered on my face that isn't entirely real.

"Yes…not because of _Oliver_," she hastily informs us, making both Myrnin and I breathe a sigh of relief. "No, it doesn't matter but I always loved the name and I do not see that it should inflect on my decision to name my child, should it?"

"No," I agree, simply because she is looking more than _slightly_ dangerous right now, with the lack of complete, universal happiness about the choice of name. "What about this little treasure?" I indicate the sleeping baby in my arms, silently thrilled that she hasn't woken up and started to scream yet, because if she did, I think she would be back in Amelie or Sam's arms within seconds.

"I named her," Sam says with a smile. "We decided that this way there could be no disagreement with the names," he clarifies as to why they named their 'own' baby.

"Now _that_ is a good idea," Myrnin comments, pondering the point slightly too much, "I think the same thing should be taken on with human families. I hear _far_ too much about—" he cuts himself off as he realises both Sam and Amelie are staring at him with a look of complete disbelief. I don't think I want to know what he was going to say. It could damage us all.

"Say hello to Abigail Isabelle Glass," Sam proudly proclaims and I smile into the face of little Abigail. It's so perfect: Amelie's mother's name began with an 'A', Amelie's name obviously does, then Ariana so this is just the next generation! I'm the only odd one in the family, besides my Mum as well. But that's not the point here: the point is that, thanks to Sam, this baby isn't called Mavis, and she has a beautiful name.

"Father's joy?" I confirm as the meaning of Abigail, a fact I'm not quite sure why I know, and he nods, grinning widely. "Ahhh, they're perfect names. Congratulations!" I smile, handing the baby back to Amelie, who takes her carefully, having at some point given Jullien to Sam, because her arms are mysteriously free. Oh, if I started to pay a little more attention, I believe that that could be a good thing, because otherwise, I could be facing near death at some point, and not notice it.

"I am happy to announce that I am proud to accept them as my godchildren," Myrnin stupidly says, but Amelie doesn't realise the arrogance in the statement and simply accepts it.

"Good," she grins – entirely unlike Amelie - before Jullien wakes up, a slightly disturbing aroma of poo suddenly starting to cling to the room, which causes Myrnin to theatrically screw up his nose.

"I'll be right back," Sam smiles, thankfully already holding the baby in his arms, because it gets him out of the room faster. The door closes with a bang, and all this does is cause Abigail to wake up in Amelie's arms, whimpers escaping her mouth. After a few moments of watching Amelie shush her – she's got the natural motherhood instinct down pat – I look across the room to see Jennie in Eve's arms; the three of them have been forgotten, Eve, Michael and Jennie, and I feel slightly guilty.

"Jennie!" I exclaim, moving with relatively slow speed across the room and bending over to look at the little girl. "How is my little Godchild?" I ask with a grin, my finger reaching out slowly to stroke the top of her little head; it's beginning to be covered in a really thick layer of curls, and she's basically the poster child for the advertisements which always play on babies to make people buy things.

"Jennie says hello to her Godmother, who is now _also_ the Godmother to Jennie's new relatives, who are her great, _great_ aunt and uncle," Eve grins, making Jennie's arm wave at me with a tenderness which makes me laugh and smile at the same time. Wow, that's confusing, that family situation, and I flash Eve a quick grin as I break eye contact with Jennie.

"You ok?" I ask Eve, and she smiles, hoisting Jennie higher into her arms. "I miss you," I add, reaching out to give Eve a one armed hug, which she reciprocates as best she can.

Three babies in one house, all three of which are absolutely adorable, and there's only two crying? This, I feel, is an achievement. But, then again, I _have_ only been here five minutes!

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><p><strong>AN2:<strong> I'd appreciate it if you didn't favourite, alert or read without reviewing. Thanks.

If I get more than 15 reviews [plausible] then I'll update asap, as I just finished chapter 9.

Vicky xx


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4:**

I don't own anything.

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><p><em>Claire's POV:<em>

Days pass by without qualm, but there is a strange sense of power within the town… it's as if things are changing, but not by choice. The only thing I can think of is that the way that I mixed my blood and Oliver's together to save Amelie means that the power in the town doesn't just belong to Amelie anymore…it belongs to all three of us. Because we pulled together to bring her back, we forged a connection which means that we are all in power in the town, albeit different amounts. For instance, the amount of power I have is, if this is correct, substantially lower than Oliver's, which in turn, is _much_ lower than Amelie's.

Isn't it ironic, however, that part of the reason Bishop managed to get me was because I wanted a little bit of power, to be recognised for what I have done, and I am getting it naturally? I think it is, anyway.

"Urgh, can you _please_ strengthen the portal or something!" I groan at Myrnin as we sit in the living room of our house, able to relax for the first time _ever,_ really, and yet all we can hear is screaming children. Since there are three different screams, I take it that Jennie decided that being about five months old isn't old enough to stop bawling for no reason.

He chuckles and shakes his head, the smile turning to grimace as the noise seems to increase in intensity. "Unfortunately, that is the maximum it will go to: we have too strong a connection to the Glass House and Amelie's home to be stronger than this," he says, making me hit my head with my hand in annoyance. This is just _shit_! I cannot believe that we have to listen to this! It's almost enough to make me go back in the lab, simply because it's utterly silent in there…unless those damned children can get through a soundproof room – something which I don't exactly doubt right at this moment in time.

"Let's go to Common Grounds or something…_anywhere_ but here!" I say after another five minutes of attempting to watch a film with Myrnin. He smiles as I stand up and grab my bag, ready to head straight into the parking garage next to the house without waiting another minute. Seriously, my head feels as if it is about to _explode_!

"Wait up, Claire, I want to drive!" he calls after me as I grab the keys, his voice almost whining. This makes me roll my eyes: he can't drive and does he _really_ think that I am going to let him drive _my_ car?

"No, no, _no_!" I exclaim loudly, shaking my head as I do so. I turn around to see him playing the puppy dog face to _perfection._ Of course… he has to revert back to child, pretty much, and put on the irresistibly gorgeous face to try and get me to surrender.

"Claire, you _know_ you want me to drive, don't you?" he says, trying to make me think that I do want this when I _definitely_ know that I don't!

"Um…I'm pretty sure that I don't, actually," I respond with a smile, turning away from him so that I don't have to look him in the face when I deny him his request. The pain in his face then would probably make me, regrettably, change my decision and let him drive…

… and I don't think that Morganville could cope with him driving. I also don't think my life could, either.

His arm suddenly snakes around my waist as he stops me opening the door to the garage by sliding around to be facing me. His eyes smoulder as he uses the full force of his seduction on me and he grins widely, showing the toothy smile that he _knows_ I adore. His brown bouncy curls move slightly and they just make me want to grab them. "Claire… please teach me how to drive. You said that you would _ages_ ago, when I wanted the motorbike, but you never did," he whispers and it makes me feel really guilty…I know I only said it to get him off my back and stuff, but I did promise him and I have broken enough promises when we've been together to make me need to make them up to him now.

"Fine, I will teach you to drive," I sigh and he grins wickedly, reaching out for the keys. "Oi! Wait! I will teach you _sometime_…I promise it will be soon, just I want to actually get a mocha _today_, rather than having to go and explain to Hannah or Richard the reason why so many people were killed by your driving of _my_ car!" I continue, smiling slightly at the angry expression on his face.

He shrugs and instantly goes colder, for some reason deciding that he may as well play the spoilt brat. "Whatever," he says before removing his arm from my waist and walking through the door to the car without another word. I roll my eyes again, hardly able to believe a nine hundred and forty six year old man could be so…wait…he's _nine hundred and forty seven!_ I can't believe that I forgot that our wedding day was the day that he was born, almost a millennia before.

"Myrnin, we forgot your birthday!" I cry as I run after him, careful to not fall over in the slight heels I am wearing – they were first shoes I found, and even though being a vampire has improved my balance, it still isn't perfect. He continues to ignore me, the idiotic man, as I dash around and unlock the car, sliding into the driver's seat. "Wait…where are you?" I ask in confusion, looking at the empty passenger seat as I hear a door open and close.

"Well, there is only _one_ logical explanation, isn't there, Claire?" he says, still in a sulky mood from the backseat. God, I could _murder_ him sometimes, with his mood swings. True, he has been ok till recently, what with all the work we have been doing on Amelie and her babies (I _still_ can't believe that nobody heard Jullien's heartbeat under Abigail's) but now…sulky Myrnin is back in full force. And because Mr Moody hasn't had an airing in a while, I think we're in for a treat – extra _special_ Mr Moody.

"Jeez, Myr-Myr-Moody-Pants, you sound like Oliver," I sigh, before then deliberately turning the radio on to one of my favourite stations with lots of modern music – in particular for the genres Myrnin really hates. He doesn't even complain about his new nickname, though. "What, you going to complain about this? As that would be _really_ Oliver esque!" I continue, smiling as I stop him from talking once he opened his mouth by comparing him to Oliver.

"I'm nothing like Oliver," he mutters, almost inaudibly, as he crosses his arms and looks down. I decide that ignoring him is the best option so begin to sing along to E.T by Katy Perry as I pull out of the garage and onto the drive where, unfortunately, I can _still_ just about hear the screaming kids.

"Do they _ever_ shut up?" I moan to myself, forgetting once _again_ that we are vampires and that he can hear everything that I say.

"Of course they don't; Sam was evidently never left alone with his child long enough to have learnt how to soothe it and Amelie is as inexperienced as I in raising children." Myrnin, of course, has to comment negatively, a sort of bitterness in his voice that I really wish wasn't present. "Yet, I suppose I can deal with it. I did, after all, have the ravaging of a diseased monster inside my head for decades," he continues, evidently showing me that he has learnt how to switch off from the noise. This is, naturally, something I have not managed to do yet and probably will not do during the time of the children being in the screaming stage. It is still so strange, however, to think that Amelie and Sam, two vampires, had _human_ children… I wonder what the town will think when they find out.

"Stop being immature, Myrnin," I admonish him, driving faster and faster and skidding around the corner slightly in my haste to get to Common Grounds: if I have to put up with this for much longer, I think I will go crazy without the excuse of a disease. "Look, we're here now," I say slowly, trying to calm down.

"I don't think I want driving lessons from someone so impatient and evidently unable to drive," he says as we stop outside the café. The sun is still out so I parked in the shade as close to the shop as possible, hopefully with the result that I have less chance of getting burnt. "Too unsafe for my fragile health."

I roll my eyes again – apparently my favourite thing to do today – before taking my keys out of the ignition and preparing to get out of the car at a sprint. "Myrnin, we can either continue with you being an immature child - which will give Oliver even _more_ to laugh at you about - or you can stop and we can walk in together, meaning we can insult him more," I say slowly, not wanting to have this strange tension between us. He may just be in a mood, but I don't like it…we've had enough time apart, or being entirely focused upon Amelie, to be spending the time when we go out like this.

He nods and smiles slightly, back to the Myrnin I know and love. Then, of course, he disappears and then reappears, opening my door for me. "After you, milady," he says with his perfect grin, offering me a hand out of the car which I accept.

"Why thank you, my husband," I say with a smile, slamming the door behind me and locking the car with a swift movement. "Now, if you wouldn't mind, I would prefer to get inside the damned café _before_ I burn to a crisp – that look was so last season!" I laugh, an inner happiness occurring when he takes my hand and leads me into the café.

Although I am entirely used to my appearance now, it still startles me to have people startled by my phenotype, so much so that I begin to see myself through new eyes for a moment. My skin is alabaster pale, all my edges slightly rounded to give a more feminine, curvaceous look than the boyish frame of others. I filled out a little when I turned vamp, something which the human males in particular seem to like, whilst my hair darkened slightly and my features became more prominent…I think that, for female vamps, it was supposed to be that you wouldn't have to wear make up because my eyelashes are extremely dark, but I still like to apply makeup: it makes me feel normal. I may now be a vampire, yet I still feel human, something I know will fade with age, yet for now, I'm more than happy enough to have it.

"The usual?" he asks me and I nod, refusing to let go of him. "Claire, go and get a table," he suggests but I continue to decline this, clinging to his hand as we walk through the café. All the human girls from the university are eyeing my husband with interest, since his fashion sense is now really rather good now we have been to New York, and jealousy shoots through me the majority of the time when I spot this. The other times, I simply feel content that I got him and they didn't…but jealousy usually wins.

Oliver is, of course, serving at the counter and he doesn't appear best pleased to see Myrnin. Or me, for that matter, but it isn't as strong as his distaste for Myrnin. "Dog, what can I do for you today?" he sneers, not even bothering to smile.

"One mocha for Claire and a bottle of _unopened_ water for me, since last time you managed to _drug_ me," Myrnin spits at him - I'd forgotten about that! I actually had as well…I mean, I _know_ his drugging basically meant that I got to learn how to defend myself, and also found out why Sam could give Amelie kids (and why Michael got Eve pregnant) but it wasn't _that_ important…

…the whole 'saving Amelie and the babies' lives' thing sort of overpowered that, in my opinion. However, it doesn't seem to have in Myrnin's…but if _I_ were the one poisoned, I would feel the same way, I bet.

Oliver…there is something about him that doesn't seem entirely normal. But I can't put my finger on it: it could be that he is slightly more edgy than normal, as if he doesn't want to be caught talking to us. But by whom? "That was _eons_ ago, Myrnin. At least attempt to argue about something more recent," he rolls his eyes – seriously, everyone is doing this today; it wouldn't surprise me if Amelie is – as he begins to get the order ready.

"What even was the _point_ in drugging me?" Myrnin continues, of course, as if Oliver hadn't said a word. "I can't see any benefits to it other than my continued silence for a few hours, but that wouldn't particularly impact you, would it?" he seems to be talking to himself almost, but still addressing Oliver.

The latter thumps the water and my mocha on the counter and snarls slightly, but quietly enough so that the others in the café won't hear. I glance down to see Myrnin handing him a slip of paper…but what does it say? I didn't know that he would be arguing for an ulterior motive!

"I did it because it was payback for 1709, the year after the entire peach fiasco," he explains: yep, it would _have_ to be payback for something that occurred _over three damned decades ago_! That is the way that these two work – I bet in three hundred years it will be Myrnin retaliating for this, won't it?

"Guys, can it," I say severely, remembering the other reason why I wanted to come to the counter – to stop this ending up being like a cowboy fight, just without the bullets. They both turn to look at me in shock before nodding, Oliver reading the note surreptitiously before indicating his office. Wow, this is…interesting; both of the egoistical male vampires have agreed to do what I say.

We head into the office and I shut the door behind me, careful not to spill my mocha. Oliver sits in his chair whilst Myrnin stands to allow me to have the seat in front of Oliver. I get the feeling it's both for courteous reasons and so that he can punch Oliver easier, if this is required. I sit down whilst he gathers his thoughts together, evidently to begin to say why he called Oliver in here.

"Myrnin, I _do_ have a café to run," Oliver says once we have been sitting here for three minutes. The man in question nods and turns to look at me, his eyes almost haunted…

"We're simply waiting on one other person," he says gravely, turning towards the place on the wall where the portal usually appears…

…And then, in this moment, a light illuminates the wall, and the shape of a door appears: the portal, of course. But why is it here?

Guess we're about to find out…

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><p>So, is it obvious who is coming?<p>

Don't favourite/alert/read without reviewing, thanks!

& If you feel the desire to, feel free to read some of my newer (better quality) oneshots XD

Vicky


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5:**

I'm sorry, I fail really, really badly with updates. But this chapter is a bit longer, so.

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><p>Of course, Amelie decides to grace us with her presence, but why? Why does Myrnin want the four of us to meet here?<p>

She emerges through the portal and appears deathly tired –s he actually looks like a proper new mother, the image being of a harassed person, unable to deal with the constant need of a child. Then when you multiply that in the form of twins, you know that it must be bad. It doesn't matter that she doesn't need sleep; I'm guessing that she _wants_ it as a respite from the children…I know for a fact that I want to murder them half the time.

"Thank you for arranging this, Myrnin," she says, placing a hand on her forehead as her long, blonde hair swings across her shoulders. It's _so_ not fair; even harassed and annoyed looking, she is _still_ prettier than me! Wait…_she_ wanted us all to meet up? God, I'm so confused as to what's going on! And let me assure you, that isn't something I like being when around elderly vampires.

"My pleasure; after all, it got me out of the house where your children are driving me _crazy_," he says to her sternly, causing a blush to come over her cheeks. "I fear that I may have to build a new house on the other side of town and _still_ be able to hear them," he continues but by now she is shaking her head and ignoring the issue.

"I require to speak with you two especially, Oliver and Claire, for I need to discuss this town with you," she says, sitting down in Oliver's seat – he graciously cleared out of it to allow the 'Founder' to take a seat. I stand up and let Myrnin sit down before he then pulls me onto his lap, making Oliver mock gag as I lean my head against the man I love's chest. "You see…I feel that when you…brought me back, you exerted some sort power which allows you a position in this town."

"I don't want it," I say instantly and Oliver, after a brief eye locking with Amelie, nods in agreement. "It's your town. I don't want it."

She shakes her head and smiles slightly, an almost internal joke that I doubt that I will ever get to hear, before looking at both Oliver and myself with a serious expression. "There are things that are more important to me now, Claire, than this town. Jullien and Abigail are two of them. Oliver, you know your role in this town; I expect you to continue that to the _letter_. Myrnin, you are in charge of the bloodbank and such. Claire, I simply want you to be my second in command," she says lightly, as if second in command is _nothing_. The way she said it, she made it sound as if she was simply asking me to be the newspaper delivery girl for the town!

"No, no, _no_!" I exclaim loudly, fighting up from my rather comfortable position with Myrnin to make a stand. "That's Oliver's job. He can have that as well."

She looks at me with a sense of intrigue, as if this reaction is nothing like what she was expecting. "You _do_ remember Bishop and the actions you took there for power?" she reminds me coolly…shit. I was half hoping that she had forgotten about that.

"That's irrelevant," I say sharply, not wanting to be reminded of that awful time. I tense up as I remember the awful time when I was locked inside my own body, a slave to what the evil me wanted to do: destroy Amelie and Sam, anyone who got in my way, just to be able to get control of this town…even if that was with Bishop. "I don't want it and I don't think that you can make me!" I continue, beginning to flounce towards the door. That is, until Myrnin suddenly launches across the room and grabs me. He throws me into the wall to stop me moving. As Myrnin makes me turn around, I look at both Amelie and Oliver, and realise that our dear _Founder_ is more than slightly annoyed with me.

"You are going to be my second in command, Claire," she informs me sharply, as though we are nothing more than two colleagues. "This is not a debateable issue. Oliver knows his work in this town and that no longer includes being the second in command. That is now your position – and you cannot do anything to adjust my mind."

I glower at her, not wanting to do this whatsoever, but finally nod, because she's not going to let me go unless she has it confirmed that I will do as she asks. I wont like it, but there's nothing I can do about it. "Now that that is over with, I am going to depart. Good day, Myrnin, Oliver…Claire." with this, Amelie walks out of the office, back through the portal, and returns to her home, hopefully to silence those screaming children.

"Come on," Myrnin whispers into my ear, trying to get me to calm down. Oliver, on the other hand, rolls his eyes before exiting the office to return to the café, muttering something about money. Once he has gone, I lift my left leg and swing it backwards, right into an area where Myrnin will _really_ be wishing that I didn't hit. It even hurts a vampire, to be kicked there. "Ow, what was that for?" he asks, releasing me, which is what I wanted.

"You prick," I inform my husband in a rather rude tone, pissed off beyond belief that he would side with Amelie over me. "You could have let me have my moment, storming off out of the café. I'd have come back…maybe. But no, you decided that working with Amelie was better and so you decided to side with her and stop me leaving. So, you prick," I continue, relatively calm but still irritated beyond belief, deciding that it is _nice_ to have a vent every now and then. I mean, seriously, I have been nothing but loving to him for a while, no matter how much he has pissed me off, therefore it is _natural_ that my annoyance levels hit a peak which has me reacting.

He doesn't say anything, just continues to grunt on about the pain in his area, so I stride out of the office and through the café, ignoring Oliver's stare as I pass him. From here, I sprint the short distance to my car to avoid the teeny bit of sun that is making the shade slightly dangerous, before just sitting in it for a few minutes. Part of me thinks that Myrnin will come rushing out after me, if only for a lift home, but then I remember that he has the portal and will probably already be home to annoy me when I get back.

I drive slowly, deciding where to go. After all, I can't be bothered to go home to listen to screaming children that aren't even mine – if they don't get it sorted soon, I think I'm going to complain to Richard about noise disturbance, even if the town doesn't know that Amelie had children. Speaking of that, when I am actually speaking to her again – or since that could be a whilst, maybe I ought to address Sam – I should ask when the great revelation about ourselves being descended from the first vampires, the most powerful in the world, to the town is going to go down. As, I mean, the fact that there are three children, two of which are _Amelie's_, involved and I really doubt that keeping their existence in the dark is going to last that much longer. After all, Jennie will start nursery…well, ok, it may be a _couple_ of years before she heads there but the issue is there.

This thought in my mind, I decide that paying Sam and Amelie (she must be home now) a little visit can't be a bad thing. I _know_ I just spent the last few minutes with her there basically insulting the crap out of her and yelling, but I think that the issue here warrants me to go and see her. And, anyway, chances are, she will be calming down one of the children she desired so (but doesn't seem to be able to control) so it will be Sam I get the chance to speak to.

I pull up in the garage by the side of their house and walk through the corridor into the house, wincing as the piercing shrieks of the child – Jullien, I can tell – hit me. How the people actually _live_ (or work) here is entirely beyond me; I can barely cope in a house about a _mile _away, so they must be childcare experts.

Or, at least, immune to the shrieks of a few weeks' old set of twins.

"Hello?" I call through the house, wondering where the redhead who lives here is, because I need to speak to him. Let's just say, rage is still surging through me from Amelie basically forcing me to take power in this town and then using the time when I was controlled by that chip against me…it wouldn't be good to be in her boots right now. Well, actually, I wouldn't mind it because at least she _wants_ the power…and she wouldn't be scared by me attacking her; she would probably just laugh.

No voice answers me, so I make my way up the _ridiculously_ huge staircase that leads to the floor that Amelie and Sam mainly use – if they had any brains whatsoever, they would put the kids' rooms in the basement…but you would probably still be able to hear them!

I run up the stairs and find that as soon as I am upstairs, the screaming of Jullien stops near instantly – either that was the biggest coincidence that has ever been, or I am some sort of stopping crying of babies magnet…

"It's ok, Sam, he's stopped!" Amelie's strained voice calls through; evidently, she thinks I am Sam. Now _that_ is interesting.

"It's me," I respond icily as I put my head around the door. "Where is Sam? I want to talk to him."

Her eyes narrow as she looks at me, setting the baby boy in her arms down in his crib as his breathing steadies off to be entirely even as he slumbers. She presses a finger to her lips as she walks out of the room – where both children are, I now realise – and shuts the door behind her.

"What do you want to talk to Sam about, Claire?" she asks me in a similar voice to before – strained, and revealing how little she can cope.

"I was just going to ask when you were planning on revealing this little family set up to the world," I say in a faux sweet voice, deciding to play this card. She's done this; she can deal with the fall from her decision to make me second in command.

Her hand moves to hit her forehead – of course, _she_ would be able to do that delicately – and she then shrugs, walking down the hall towards the living room where I presume Sam is. I scurry after her, wondering if she is actually planning on answering me or just going to leave it to Sam.

As we walk in, I realise that he is taking full advantage of this silent time…sleeping. I mean, _come on_! It's not like he even _needs_ sleep, so why the hell he would want to spend the first silent time in weeks sleeping?

Amelie moves across the room and shakes his shoulder slightly, causing him to awaken from the evidently light slumber he was in and look at her in confusion. "Let me guess, they're awake?" he says slightly bitterly, evidently not listening to the utter silence.

She shakes her head and sits down next to him, running her hand through his hair to flatten it. "No, they're asleep, finally," she informs him with a small smile, almost victorious that she had finally managed to get the children to slumber…personally, I just think that they spent so long crying, they just burnt out and had nothing to do with her presence as their mother.

"Then what's up?" he asks as he slides his legs around to sit upright, already looking one hundred percent% awake.

"Claire wants to know when we are telling the world, well Morganville, about our perfect little family," Amelie's voice softens as she mentions her family, but she still seems pretty off with me. Oh yeah, I half forgot that a) I am mad at _her_ for the whole power thing and b) she is mad at _me_ because of my entire reaction and attempt to run away.

Sam looks over at me and smiles slightly, his eyes crinkling over as he looks me in the eye. Something tells me that he classes me as part of his family even though we aren't blood related and the in law link is tenuous at best. But it's nice to have a larger family circuit than just me…ever since Bishop killed my parents, it's just been me and Myrnin. True, I then found out that I had Amelie as a _way_ far off relative, but it's nice to have some closer ones as well, including Sam, Michael, Eve and Jennie.

"I…well, perhaps I already released a statement to the newspaper?" Sam says hesitantly, giving me the idea that he is joking. However, the look of shock from Amelie and something in his face gives me the idea that he is telling the truth. "I take it that neither of you have seen the papers today then?" he confirms, laughing slightly manically as he lifts the Morganville Times up from the side of the sofa.

Amelie reaches out for it but I beat her to the punch, ripping the folded paper from his hands and gasping in shock as I read the front page:

**VAMPIRE CHILDREN**

_We have found out late last night from Sam Glass, husband of the Founder, that there is a strange situation enveloping some of the oldest vampires in town…as well as the youngest._

_Revelations appear that there is a gene within some vampires, the 'original' ones, the descendants of the race which the Founder's father wiped the majority of out – evidently without knowing that he himself was descended from them._

_This gene apparently allows two vampires with the gene to mate, or a vampire who has the gene can have a child with a human._

_Details on _how_ this is possible escape us at the current time, but this confirms that Jennie Rosser is, in fact, the daughter of Michael Glass. He and grandfather Sam, who broke the news, are descended from Myrnin, an ancient vampire._

_Meanwhile, on the other side of the family, Claire Danvers, his wife, appears to be a descendant of the Founder herself, born from a line from an illegitimate daughter our dear captor had as a human._

_News of this has been broken with the knowledge from Sam Glass that he and the Founder have bore two children – twins – named Jullien and Abigail Glass. Both these children are entirely human with _no_ vampire tendencies, though this is yet to be proven._

_What this revelation means for the future of Morganville, or indeed the vampire race, waits to be seen. One thing is sure, however; there is opposition to this knowledge and the idea of a 'super race' of vampires able to reproduce worries not only humans but other vampires._

I finish reading and hand the paper out to Amelie without a word, disbelief that Sam has done this stunning me into silence. He looks at me but I turn away, unable to understand why he did this. Well…I guess part of me knows he did it so that Amelie didn't have to make any sort of public announcement, so that she didn't have the take the brunt of the public stigma towards the children – his surreptitious revelation has meant that she cannot be the hate figure. At least, I guess that that was his plan.

"What have you _done_?" Amelie growls at Sam as she finishes reading the newspaper article, her breathing actually audible across the room – that shows nothing but the fact that her anger levels are approaching nuclear meltdown stage.

"I only did it so that you wouldn't have to," he defends his actions, trying to get her to calm down and realise that it was all for her, that it simply meant that she didn't have to find the words to enlighten the town. "I didn't want _you_ to be the bad person in the scenario…but more than that, I didn't want our _children_ to be harmed in this set up of a town. I did it so that _everyone_, human and vampire, knows that if _one hair_ is harmed on their head, that they answer to us," something breaks in his voice as I get the idea that he expected there to be some sort of backlash…after all, I did. I suppose there will be, actually, but how and what will happen?

Her expression softens and I realise that she knows that this was the right way to do it, that if they had waited any longer then it would look ever more suspicious than perhaps it already does. But when the world sees them, they will know that they _are_ their children: you can see Amelie in both of them, as well as Sam…it cannot be disputed that their DNA matches their parents.

Sam turns to me and I get the idea that he wants my approval as well. Oh yeah, I forgot that my _maiden_ name is in the paper; then again, Myrnin doesn't really have a surname so it's like either I just get called Claire, or I keep the Danvers. But I have been brought into this, the knowledge that _I_ have this super gene as well publicised to the town.

"You did good, Sam," I say with a smile, and he reaches over to give me a quick hug before turning back to Amelie. She wraps her arms around him, whispering something into his ear, and I try to block it out. These attempts prove unnecessary, however, when, unsurprisingly, screaming starts.

"I'll go," Sam sighs, starting to disentangle himself from Amelie but I shake my head.

"I'll go and sort them out," I offer and the both Amelie and Sam turn to look at me in shock. "Don't say anything. Irritation doesn't cover how I feel about this position you've given me, Amelie, so just don't say anything." With that, I move towards the exit of the room, ignoring the whisperings between them as I leave.

I shut the door behind me as I go to comfort the children, finding that only Abigail is crying. Evidently, Jullien is so tired from his life long crying jag that he had to sleep through the cries of his sibling – and she isn't being quiet, oh no!

"Come on, sweetie, calm down for your Godmother," I soothe her gently, waiting for her to calm down enough. After a few minutes of rocking, she actually quietens to simply gurgle. "Yes, that's right; you love your Claire, don't you? Yes you do! And I love you!" I coo in her face, giggling as she smiles back at me. That's right; this couple of week old baby smiles back at me!

"You look like you're having fun," Myrnin's voice startles me from the doorway and I turn to face him defensively. I'm still annoyed at him but not as much as I was; the entire newspaper article made me realise that we all need to stick together so that we can weather out this storm.

"Yeah, I am," I agree with a smile, walking across to him with Abigail in my arms. "Want to hold her?" I suggest but he shakes his head, backing away.

"I doubt that I would be trusted with such a fragile thing," he says, swallowing loudly. Ahh yes, I had half forgotten that he…he suffers from bloodlust so much more so than the rest of us. Because of the intensity by which he had the disease, it made it worse – but the fact that he spends his entire time with vampires, almost, means that he never has to be around humans. So for a human baby, fragile and vulnerable, to be here when he is probably thirsty must be hard. No _wonder_ Eve didn't want Myrnin around Jennie alone… I didn't understand before, but I do now.

"You'll be fine," I press, knowing he has to get over this for the off chance that we could have a child in the future. "Hold her and I will hold her as well, ok?" I suggest that we both take her and he nods, swallowing loudly but moving his arms to wrap around my own in a strange way. It feels weird but knowing that he is doing it, getting through the pain to do this, fills me with a strange sense of pride.

Abigail drops off back to sleep in our arms and then Myrnin takes her from me to set her down gently in her crib, something which surprises me. "Well, you know more than you're letting on," I say to him, hiding this surprise, I hope.

"No, just simply playing on years of observations," he counter-argues, but I don't really see much difference, to be honest.

"Ok then," I sigh, walking with him towards the door and into Amelie's office to use the portal to go home. "Wanna do something outrageously weird and wonderful?" I suggest with a grin as we head home.

His eyebrows furrow as he considers this before his mouth widens into the grin he _knows_ I cannot resist. "Yes, so dear, enlighten me," he smiles before I kiss him on the lips with a smile on my own.

"Relax with the peace and quiet?" I suggest with a smile and he laughs, sweeping me into his arms to kiss me some more.

And, for the first time since they were born, the twins don't interrupt us, or bother us or _anything_.

Truly marvellous!

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	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6:**

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><p><em>Claire's POV:<em>

I want to scream. I repeat: I. Want. To. Scream.

For the first time since they were born, silence is issuing from Amelie and Sam's house…well, from the children at least. The adults there seem to be continuing to scream at each other regarding Sam's 'betrayal of trust' in regards to the fact that he told the newspapers about his children. Personally, I don't see the big beef Amelie has with it; he's saved her a job in doing it and it isn't as if she would have _liked_ revealing it anyway. But no, _Amelie_ has to do everything _herself_, it doesn't matter if the person has only done what they have done to try and help her – they are still in the wrong if she has not asked for it.

"Can you not strengthen the portals?" I ask Myrnin tetchily, my hands over my ears. There are many times that I regret having vampire hearing and this is _definitely_ one of those times.

He looks up from his book (once again, he is wearing the entirely unnecessary reading spectacles he thinks make him appear to be a 'professional') and shakes his head. "For the five millionth time, Claire, no, I cannot strengthen the portal from here to their house because the machine is already working on keeping the guard up around the room of the children. Unless, of course, you would rather have the piercing shrieks of those _brats_ annoying us in exchange for three seconds of peace," he retorts, sounding like the bratty scientist I once knew but thought was tamed.

"Jeez, I guess I know who got up on the wrong side of the bed this morning," I roll my eyes and grumble as I process how immature he has been.

"Whatever," he shoots back; if he was female, I would _definitely_ say it was his time of the month. But he isn't… so what's up with him?

I abandon the book I am attempting to read and whiz over the room to sit on the sofa next to him. My sudden appearance startles him enough to place his own book down on the floor and remove the reading spectacles he knows annoy me so damned much. His face… it's breathtaking. We've been together for about a year now, a little more I think, but every single day that I see him, I wonder how_ I _managed to get him. How _I_ managed to snare him so that he was so completely and utterly in love with me is completely beyond me, but it has happened.

I trace the slight creases on the sides of his eyes and he smiles slightly, yanking me with a movement so fast I didn't see it onto his lap, where he proceeds to pull me into him. Moments like these make me forget that we are both vampires and that he almost killed me about fifty million times, scaring me all the time near as dammit. Now, he…he just seems almost human. But maybe that's just because I'm the same as him now and can't see myself as clearly.

"Honey, what's wrong?" I ask him, knowing he snapped at me _way_ too suddenly to be normal. He gets annoyed at me a lot – especially in the lab; I'm still learning – but he never normally loses it with me _that_ quickly.

"I'm losing it," he whispers quietly, confusing me. He's losing _what_?

"Myrnin, I don't get what you mean," I answer, my brow furrowed. Unfortunately, one of his moods – the things he hasn't had for so long, because of the whole 'finding out the pregnancy thing' – comes on and he throws me off of him, causing me to crash into the other side of the sofa. It doesn't hurt, of course it doesn't, but it's enough to get me _very_ pissed off. "What the fuck was that for?" I shout at him, shuffling to stand up.

He's already standing up and his expression is one I thought I would never see again, or at least until a replacement Bishop stepped in. it's angry… but it's also hurt and, in a way, confused. It's like he is under the influence of the disease but the disease has been replaced by himself; it's the clashing of _him_, the man, and the part of him science driven.

"Since before I married you, it's been more about _me_ and my feelings or being with _you_ than it has been about science," he spits, his arm swinging out to remove the items off of the table in the centre of the living room. "It's been Myrnin the man first and science second…Claire, before we got together, you remember how I was? The science obsessed _vampire_ who could kill you at any time?" he asks me suddenly, his voice harsh and dark.

Slowly, I nod, moving away from him slightly…I'm scared of him again and I don't like it. "Yes, I remember. You could be so charming one minute then…you would lose it. Whilst the charming side _usually_ won out, on occasion you would go crazy, like you had the disease again."

He nods and the fight drops out of him. The anger that was so prominent mere seconds ago fades out and _my_ Myrnin is back. It's almost as if he never left… but he did. I can never forget again that Myrnin is conflicted, as I have done for so many months. He can be dangerous, even to other vampires.

"I didn't mean it, Claire, I'm sorry," he whispers again, realising I'm not moving any closer to him. "It's just such a hard battle and it sometimes seems as if I'm just a human again… I don't like it. I _love_ you, I know that, and I am never going to hide my feelings but I just… it's as if I forget who I was before I met you. You saw me when I was work crazed but I haven't been like that in so long. It scares me, Claire, that I'm changing," he begins to cry and _now_ I move across to him, clutching him to me.

"It's ok, Myrnin, honestly… have you ever considered that it's because it was _time_ to change?" I ask him gently, wanting rid of the drama. Couldn't he have at least had this little bout of hysteria _before_ we got normality back in our lives? Oh no, because this is Myrnin. "I mean, Amelie's changed, at least a bit. Have you not considered that, just maybe, you need to be Myrnin the _man_ for a bit with the science bit just pushed underneath?" I continue and he looks up at me, his lashes wet.

"No, I never did," he murmurs, his eyes no longer half crazed as they were mere moments ago. They just seem _normal_ now, in a sense, but betraying the bloodlust he has… he never fed earlier; perhaps that is the reason why his little crazy antic came about now rather than before today.

I shove him off of me and stand up, heading towards the kitchen. However, his hand shoots out to grab my wrist and he looks at me in confusion. "Where are you going?" he inquires curiously.

"Blood," I say simply, deciding that I don't need to elaborate on that. So he simply stands up with me and lifts me across to the kitchen. "Myrnin! What happened to 'I'm losing myself to the man'?" I squirm as he tickles my legs, wondering why the sudden mood swing has occurred.

"Well, you see m'y ear, I don't have a clue… it's as if you picked me up again and now I'm on cloud nine, I believe it is that humans say nowadays," he muses, plopping me down on the floor of the kitchen. I grab two bottles of the life fortifying substance out of the fridge and put them in the microwave, heating them until they are at a similar temperature to a human's blood…not that I will _ever_ need to experience that for myself.

I nod, not knowing what to say to his words. After all, he's just gone Mr Crazy on me and now he's back to being normal…almost _too_ normal, if that makes sense – it's as if he is making sure that he doesn't do anything that could result in him returning to how he was for a couple of minutes. I have only seen _flashes_ of it in the last year or so, nothing more than the odd movement or two, but now… oh, it's strange.

The blood finishes warming, so I take it out of the microwave and hand one of the bottles over to Myrnin who smiles as I give it to him. I drink down my own bottle in mere seconds, the monster in me taking control for this short time, and then throw the bottle in the bin. But, even though I don't _need_ it, I _want_ more…I want to feel the satisfying liquid in my mouth travel down my throat and relieve the craving for just a second, to allow the part of me I keep caged up for ninety nine percent of the time to be fulfilled for just a little while more than it just has.

However, I manage to push these cravings down so that I don't do anything besides clean up the mess I left out from breakfast, not sure what to do. I would hate to say it out loud but, right now, I am scared of Myrnin… I don't know what he is going to do next and that is scary.

"Claire?" his voice startles me back to reality from my thoughts and I turn to look at him, hastily putting a smile on my face. "I… I'm—" he begins but then we both hear someone opening a portal and know that it has to be one of about ten people who are 'close' to us and there is a good possibility that they could be coming here… this house seems to be the social hub at the current time.

As suspected, the portal door appears here and opens suddenly, a frazzled looking Amelie walking through into our living room. She then proceeds to absolutely _slam_ the door and turns back to face us, her face absolutely livid. Of course: when _doesn't_ she look that way?

"I could _kill_ that man," she says, almost to herself, as she walks through the living room and into the kitchen to see us.

"Don't lie, Amelie," Myrnin comments in an airy tone with a hint of humour to it. He walks past me and Amelie and into the living room, where he proceeds to throw himself through the air and land with a soft 'plop' on the sofa. "We _all_ know that you love him more than you hate him, so you wouldn't be able to kill him yourself," he continues, not going down the route of _you love him so why would you kill him_, oh no, he decides to go for the _you'd get someone else to kill him!_

Her eyebrows raise slightly as she evaluates Myrnin, evidently unsure of what his words are implying. "Do continue that thought, Myrnin, for I honestly cannot be bothered to work out your riddles today," she sighs, running her hand through her hair and fidgeting for the first time I can recall.

"You wouldn't kill Sam yourself, my dear friend, but if you were _deadly_ serious about killing him, you would instruct either myself, Claire or Oliver to do it," he rolls his eyes, as if this was so obvious she ought to have gotten it straight away…even though it was… so she should.

"I don't _really_ want to kill Sam, you moronic fool!" she hisses at him, her anger turning towards Myrnin instead of Sam. And, in this moment, I realise that Myrnin was _right_… he played Amelie! Myrnin. Played. Amelie. Oh my god, what has happened to the world?

"Um, Amelie," I broach the subject gently, deciding to get in there before Myrnin's gleeful mouth can open and then proceed to crow that he beat her. "He didn't _really_ think you wanted to kill Sam; he was playing you to make you realise that yourself, probably so that you would go home," I continue, not sure how far to go with the whole 'going home' thing because if she is like any self respecting Grandmother, she will stay _just_ because it annoys me!

She looks at me, her eyes brightening with this new knowledge, before nodding slightly. "Ahh, yes, I understand now," she says, her tone gentler than before. "I must say, Myrnin, well done… it has been a long time since you last caught me out and that was _extremely_ skilfully done," she compliments Myrnin _stupidly_, since I know that that is all he is going to go on about for the next million years is that he played Amelie.

"I beat you, I beat you!" he gloats gleefully, sitting up and pointing at Amelie with a certain fierceness to his pointing.

"I've made a mistake here, haven't I?" Amelie whispers to me and I nod slowly, just as…

Oh great, the twins are crying… yet again.

The portal opens and a harrowed looking Sam steps through, clutching both wailing babies, causing their screeches to reverberate around our living room. "Amelie, I love you and I'm sorry for telling the town about everything but could you _please_ help here?" he begs her to basically take one of her children from him, his eyes locking with hers as he speaks.

After about three seconds, she nods and moves forwards to take Abigail from him, pulling her close to her body and murmuring hushing noises that are doing absolutely nothing for her… still, it's better than Sam's throwing Jullien in the air to try and get him to shut up.

I exchange a look with Myrnin, mine disbelieving whilst he just seems amused by their antics… then again, I wouldn't particularly trust Myrnin with the babies either, or him having a clue what to do whatsoever.

"Would you now take those brats to your house?" I ask, covering my head with a handily lying around pillow on the chair nearest me. Both Sam and Amelie look at me with shock that I could be dissing their children, outrage building even more so on Sam's face.

"Yes… I suppose so," Amelie says disdainfully, turning with a sharpness that, once again, reminds me of the bitch she used to be.

"Good riddance to bad rubbish!" Myrnin yells through the closing portal, causing Amelie to narrow her eyes. Yet she doesn't have time to do anything further since the portal is shut and Myrnin locks it with a flamboyant wave of his hand.

I move across and yank him up, the shock of such a movement from me causing him to move as I ask. The way he has been for the past ten minutes has wiped the fear from me, so I lean in and hug him for a moment before turning away.

He reaches out and grabs my wrist, holding me for a moment. "Where are you going?" he asks, his voice hurt.

"I need to train," I sigh, realising that I haven't been doing enough training and that I need to do some more before I go to see Oliver next. He's been lenient recently, because of the whole baby issue and saving Amelie and stuff (personally, I think he's a little miffed she didn't die because if she _had_ then he would have more power), but I have a feeling he is going to expect me there in about three days time and I haven't actually trained in forever.

Myrnin nods slowly and lets me go. "Have fun… I'll go do some work in the lab… I've been wanting to conduct this experiment for quite some time," he ponders the thought as I walk across the room and into the small gym I have.

I turn and shut the door, stopping for a moment as I see him staring into space, my heart wanting to reach out to him. I don't know what's wrong with him… why can't he go back to how he was before?

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	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7:**

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><p><em>Claire's POV:<em>

An hour later, the treadmill seems to bore me more than it does normally. It actually pains me to think I have to keep moving my feet – not because it's _hard_ or anything (how running could be hard to a vampire is beyond me) but just for the simple fact that it's boring.

Whatever bloody idiot thought up a machine to make you run on the spot ought to be shot. I am serious; why on earth bother to do this, when the only thing you're thinking of is when you can get off… oh, and the occasional 'what the hell is there to eat in the house'?

If this is supposed to be a way for humans to get fit, it _definitely_ wouldn't have worked for me if I were overweight.

I should stay on here for another hour or so, or at least in the gym, but why? I've already proven to Oliver that I _can_ beat him and though I do have to get a little faster, that's something that comes with age! Forcing it along will make me increase fractionally, which isn't going to do much good if I'm against someone like Oliver or Myrnin…or even Michael!

In all honesty, I don't know why I am even learning to fight; it's not like there's going to be another Bishop around, is it? I wanted to learn to fight before, when Bishop was around, so I could join in the fighting! Now, it's just a useless thing I know how to do, something that will give me no help over the others since, well, I doubt anyone is going to be running around saying that they want the town, due to the fact that only Amelie's supporters remain. At least, that's what I figure.

I jump off the treadmill and walk out of the gym, slamming the door fiercely behind me in a sort of stand against the gym that nobody will hear since the only other person here is Myrnin, and he'll be all absorbed in whatever experiment he's doing at the current moment in time. He's probably testing out how much glucose a potato can hold before dying, or its cells becoming too turgid for it to exist, or something along those lines…

"Hello?" I call through the house, just to find it is entirely empty – Myrnin isn't even bloody here! What the hell is he doing and where? "Myrnin? Are you here?"

Just to make sure that I'm not going deaf or whatever, I head into the lab and find it empty – he's not upstairs as his scent is strongest…by the wall where the portal usually appears. Where on earth he has gone is beyond me, but I'm not about to ensue on a wild goose chase around Morganville when he could be in one of about five billion different places. No, so, instead, I simply get my phone out and dial his number, waiting, waiting, waiting for him to pick up…

"Hello, my dear," he answers the phone on the last ring somewhat hesitantly, as if he doesn't think he has answered the phone.

"Myrnin, you _know_ how to answer the phone, so why hesitate?" I sigh, sitting down on the sofa. Instantly, my legs curl up into the foetal position and I wait for him to respond, probably having him talking into the buttons or something.

"I…I was doing something so I had to focus more on that so I didn't know if it had rang off or not before I answered," he replies very smoothly, in a very believable manner. After all, this could have happened…I just very much doubt it!

"Ok, so where are you?" I question him, not liking the fact that he went out when he said he was going to be working.

"I'm just at Amelie's house – she requires my assistance in writing something," he says, jealousy shooting through me. _I'm_ the one who has the skills in writing, or even Sam does, but not Myrnin! The only thing he is good at saying is witty comments or making people laugh so much that they forget the original point. "She requires a dashing of humour in there, apparently, in order for the people whom the speech is to be read to partially forget the purpose of the speech," he continues, settling my emotions slightly, so I realise that it's just immature to be being jealous of him getting asked to write a speech. After all, do I really want to spend so much time optionally with a woman who has returned to having the shortest temper in the world since her children sleep for about a minute at a time?

The answer to that is no, I don't!

"Oh, ok then, well anything you want me to do?" I ask him, my voice much more relaxed as I reach out to turn the television on, deciding that I may as well take full advantage of this time alone and watch some of the things I love without Myrnin's incessant 'oh my lord, this is possibly the worst television show on the planet' spiel he likes to give… for every single programme.

"No, my dear, watch some television and relax," he informs me softly. "Don't worry, I shan't pass on the message to Oliver that you have cut out of training early," he continues before hanging up. Well, that's nice, isn't it!

I turn on Dirty Sexy Things, a pretty awesome show about the lives of models in England, and immerse myself in the pretty ridiculous storylines it has.

~x~

"Claire, could you come over please?" Amelie's voice comes down the phone, interrupting my viewing of BB getting told he could be a black supermodel. It's pretty annoying, actually, since she wants me _now_, for reasons I don't even know!

"Why?" I know I sound like a petulant child but I can't be bothered going there, probably just to end up getting a lecture about something or other. I know she's technically the only relative I have (even though, due to the whole vampire thing, I'm related to Michael, Sam and Jennie… oh and Myrnin, though we're married as well) but I really don't care about whatever she's doing.

"There is something going on, and I require your presence here," she replies coolly. "Last time I checked, Claire, it is _me_ who decides what goes on around here, not you."

"And last time I checked, _you_ made _me_ second-in-command, therefore I don't see why I have to run to you," I sigh in response, flexing my wrist and wondering if I'll be able to throw the phone into the hole in the ceiling…of course I will; I have the best eyesight and hand-eye coordination of anyone other than a vampire.

"I don't have the time for your idiotically childish antics, Claire, so just come to my house now." she needn't give me threat – I can hear in her voice that she's even unhappier than she was at the beginning of the conversation.

"Fine," I roll my eyes and sit up, wondering if I can pretend it'll take me a while to get there so I have the time to finish this episode now.

"I can hear the television, Claire; kindly remain on the line until you enter the house," she sees my plan and scuppers them instantly, resulting in a heavy huff of breath down the phone from me.

"Coming _now_," I inform her, deliberately stomping to the portal door and opening it. I step through into her empty office. "Fine, I'm here now. Can I hang—" she hangs up on me before I can even get through the damned question. "Bloody idiot, has to bloody hang the phone up on me even though I'm bloody coming to do her a bloody favour," I end up saying the word 'bloody' four times in the same sentence.

"Language, Claire," Amelie says lazily from another room – _shit_, I forgot she can hear me! Why can't vampires just be normal human beings? Oh yeah, as then they wouldn't be vampires! "Stop theorising about whatever little thoughts are currently in your mind and come through, since your standing there is boring me," she adds as I continue to stand in her office, not sure what to do.

Sighing, I walk slowly through the house and follow the sound of her and Myrnin talking. Something tells me that Sam and the children aren't here – probably something that I can tell from the lack of screaming. Why oh _why_ can't they just shut up like normal children?

"Yes?" I say pointedly as I enter the lounge area where my dear husband is lounging with my grandmother on a sofa, holding a rather long sheet of paper in his hand.

"If you take _that_ long to come through, no wonder Oliver thought it prudent to increase your fitness," Amelie sighs – looks like crabbit queen bitch is back, at least for a bit. "Now, come and sit down. I require your thoughts on something," she orders me, motioning to the chair on the left of them.

In the one act of defiance I have here, I deliberately take the chair on the other side of her, resulting in an eye roll but nothing further. "Shoot then, Amelie," I shrug, not caring about the lack of liking for modern language on her behalf because she _did_ drag me here.

"We are going to be speaking to the residents of Morganville later on this evening, so I thought it a good idea that you actually read through this and decide whether or not you are happy with it," Amelie sniffs, handing over a spare copy of a three page long speech.

"I thought… I thought that, as Sam did the newspaper article, we didn't need to do anything like this?" I furrow my brow in confusion, not seeing the need for the U-turn of ideas.

"As I said," Myrnin pipes up, smiling at me as Amelie shoots him a dirty look. "However, Amelie said that it needs to come from _her_ about the family situation, therefore we have to line up like gorillas and show off who we are," he sighs, using the wrong analogy.

"It's like ponies, Myrnin," I whisper quickly before Amelie says anything.

"Yes, _thank_ you for that, Myrnin," she responds coolly, sighing slightly. "I was not rendered incapable of speaking when Claire entered the room – I can explain my reasoning perfectly well without your assistance."

"And I thought that you could require some of my eternally useful help, since it's gotten you out of so many predicaments in the past," Myrnin shoots back, his eyes glistening with humour at the admittedly funny situation. "And I _did_ explain it in a much better and, to be quite frank, more interesting way than we _know_ you would have," he continues, perhaps going a touch far with a woman who continues to look as if she's living on the edge of insanity.

A snarl escapes her lips, her face changing to almost explode with fury…which is, for the strangest of reasons, aimed at me. "What have _I_ done?" I ask, indignated that she dares to give _me_ such a look when I haven't even done anything.

"You married this fool." her statement has no relevance, to me at least, to the conversation. "Therefore _you_ are to be the one who deals with him, not me. In the meanwhile, you can read this speech, as the actual reason for your presence here, not just to ignite this idiot's sarcastic tongue," she tells me, handing out the speech…which looks already as if it's going to be the most boring thing I have ever read in my life. I bet you one hundred to one that it'll be worse than Lord of the Flies, which I sometimes used to use as material to make me go to sleep.

"Gee, Amelie, I can't say that you don't give me the best of presents," my tone is heavily laced with sarcasm, something she picks up on and results in her continuing to give me one of the dirtiest looks she has ever given me.

"In that case, Claire, I can say that your part in this rigmarole, as Myrnin put it, shall be much greater than previously," she retorts waspishly, a vindictive undertone to her voice. "And mark my words, if you are not word perfect by tonight at eight o'clock, you shall regret it more than anything," she continues, standing and sweeping out of the room without another word.

"Is it just me," I begin slowly, "Or is she back to being Queen Bitch, or what?" Myrnin laughs at this, moving seats to come sit next to me. He seems entirely back to being himself, rather than what he was like the other day (when he had his little mood swing), which pleases me more than I could possibly say.

"I think that I shall agree with you, for it will bring greater repercussions _not_ to…and I agree," he laughs, his arms shooting out suddenly to lift me from the seat on which I _was_ sat and dropping me into his arms. His lips press against my neck, his arms wrapping around my waist to pull me into him.

I smile and tuck my head into his chest, lifting the sheet of paper to my face…and instantly setting it back down on my folded legs. "Urgh, there is no way I can read this," I groan, tilting my head back to look up (at an angle) into his eyes. "It's the most _boring_ thing I've ever read in my life and I was stuck in the first sentence!"

He laughs and somehow, without releasing me, manages to pick it up. "Dear residents of Morganville, I believe we have a great deal to explain to you," he recites off the sheet, making my eyes droop even with _him_ reading it. "Dear God, I can see what you mean, my love. This looks akin to Oliver's attempts at engaging the audience, not Amelie's…I have actually heard a slightly interesting speech issue from Amelie, yet this is _not_ it."

"If you continue to dismiss the quality of my speech, you _both_ shall regret it more than you have ever regretted a single thing before," Amelie's cool voice issues through the house from wherever she retreated to.

"Yes, sergeant," I mutter, rolling my eyes and twisting around to be able to see Myrnin's face without doing a near one eighty twist. "Now, let's go back and work on that speech," I talk to Myrnin, lifting the piece of paper and miming ripping it to shreds. There is no _way_ that I am going to discuss my relation to Amelie through her wording – it'll be both too complex, so nobody will understand it, and it will give away information we don't want to give away! She's not exactly into keeping scientific knowledge (the only information that _should_ stay secret) a secret, something I've noticed throughout the years I've been in Morganville now.

"Come on then, my Claire," he stands up, setting me down on the floor and taking my hand all within the same second. "Let us return home," he says pointlessly as the portal door opens and reveals the lovely, homely sight of our living room…with Dirty, Sexy Things continuing to blare out of the television hanging on the wall in the middle of the room.

"Well _that's_ doing loads for the electricity bill," I sigh to myself, turning the television off with the remote before then tossing it back on the sofa. After all, we have about twenty devices in the lab that never get switched off (and have a back up generator incase the electricity goes off) as well as others that Myrnin is yet to discover _can_ be switched off…and he even thinks that the red bit at the top of a switch is pretty, so leaves things turned on 'so the place can look prettier'. Let's just say that last _month's_ electricity bill was higher than the bills of every single person in the tower block added together…and over _three_ months.

"You're the one who left it on," Myrnin comments smugly, jumping over the back of the sofa to land on it neatly…and on top of the remote…which turns the television back on again. "Oops," he pulls a face that only makes me laugh, particularly as he tries to turn it off but ends up just turning the volume up.

"So, we have to be there for eight o'clock, right?" I confirm, moving to perch on the sofa in front of his body, which is taking up the vast majority of it. "By my calculations, that leaves a _long_ time for us to do absolutely _nothing_…which seems a bit of a waste to me."

He cottons onto my double meaning instantly, sitting upright and reaching out to grab my waist before a breath can even be taken into my body. "Now _that_ sounds like a good idea…after all, improvisation always works better in speeches, does it not?" he whispers seductively into my ear, lifting me into the air with less effort than I think you would ever comprehend.

"I agree," I reply, shutting my eyes as he kisses me hastily, a feverish excitement rushing through my body as I kiss him back without haste. "Now, let's go," I mutter against his lips, this time breaking away from _him_ to take his hand as we run up the stairs towards our room.

He slams the door shut as I turn back to face him, my hands reaching into his hair and dragging him down to my level as he kisses my forehead, my cheeks, my neck and finally my lips. A heat rarely felt since my turning runs through me along the same tracks as the excitement, his hands reaching down my body until the noise of material tearing can be heard.

I fall backwards onto the bed and kiss him back harder until I ought to be out of breath, yet continue not to be – even after almost two years, I'm still barely able to comprehend I'm a vampire with vampire reactions.

The kisses rain down on my smooth, white skin and I smile wider than I have in a _long_ time…

**…**

As the time approaches seven pm, I decide it's high time to get out of bed and stop having a good time; there's a difference between having an idea of what Amelie wants me to say and going in entirely blind…something tells me if I end up going off on a u-turn talking about the position of the sun, or something as equally random as that, she _will_ murder me, her own flesh and blood.

"Well, I'm getting up, so you can either lie therealone or come downstairs with me." I give him his options, wondering for a moment if he will continue to lie in bed simply to taunt me – this is, after all, Myrnin. He usually does anything if it's something I want to do, but can't…like sleep more than three hours.

He looks at me for a long moment, his eyes meeting mine as he evidently debates internally what to do. I can see the desire for his stubborn side to overcome the rest of him and stay in bed, yet the smile on my face evidently persuades him to agree to come downstairs with me.

"I suppose, since I _have_ to be present, I ought to get up now also," he grudgingly says, standing up and quickly dressing so that he's ready before I've even selected what to wear. "Claire? Generally the wardrobe doesn't contain what Amelie wants you to say, unless she's now been genetically modified to be able to change into a wardrobe," as usual, he thinks he's being absolutely hilarious, something which he really isn't.

"Funny that, since last time I checked, _you_ were the one who chose the wardrobe," I reply, pulling a royal blue dress out and yanking it over my head. That'll do; I don't have to look particularly smart, I don't think, and if I team this with some heels and just pin my hair back, that'll do. "Oh look, I'm done," I continue three minutes later, placing the last pin in my hair before picking up my shoes off the floor.

"Finally," he rolls his eyes, moody to the extreme, "I thought you had plans to spend the rest of your _life_ getting ready for this one meeting that means absolutely nothing to anyone other than Amelie because she gets to parade what she created," he continues, also Mr Optimistic of the town.

"They're also your relatives, much more than they are mine," I remind him gently, taking his hand as we walk out of our room and back downstairs. "Speaking of…where _are_ they?" my brow furrows as I try to place even the hint of a scream from Sam and Amelie's house…but no, nothing. There's nothing to signify they're even alive.

"Don't worry, they're not dead," Myrnin chuckles, always being able to read my thoughts from my face, which normally annoys me. "I just gave them a _very_ strong sleeping mixture this morning to ensure they're asleep for the speech so that they look like they're angelic children of the most apt vampires in town to be parents, rather than the devil spawn they sound like in here," he explains, horrifying me.

"Wait…you gave _babies_ the ammonia and chloroform solution I found in the lab earlier in a strong enough dose to knock them out _all day_?" I confirm, aghast that he could actually think to do that. "At least tell me you warned Amelie and Sam of the danger, of the side effects it could have!" I continue, enraged after he nods.

"Amelie begged for something; she didn't care about the possibility of side effects, especially if it kept them quiet for longer," he says, not exactly helping the situation. "I checked the dosage against their weight and took every precaution to ensure that they were not going to be harmed by the chemicals. After all, I highly doubt that I would be welcome in Morganville – or indeed the world – if I killed Amelie's pride and joy, would I?" he speaks a very good point, simply reaffirming the fact that I knew underneath – there's _some_ realms of life where Myrnin is entirely sane.

It's just the other 99% of the time that he isn't.

"Right, well, ok then," I begrudgingly agree, sitting down carefully on the sofa. "This is my speech…I just need to get the gist of what she wants me to be saying and then I can put it into my own words," I speak to myself, muttering hurriedly under my breath.

A pen and paper pad appear next to my hand, Myrnin smiling down at me as he sits next to me. "You need to make notes – your memory isn't as good as mine," he boasts about his skills but I simply roll my eyes and start to write down the gist of the speech, getting a basic idea of what I'm going to say…

**…**

I step out onto the stage, grasping Myrnin's hand as we stand to the left of Amelie and Sam. I can't even see where Abigail and Jullien are; my attention is focused on the masses of people below us.

They look neither happy nor angry, some of them (like Detective Hess) smile at me as I look at them, yet others don't react.

Amelie is talking and I try desperately to listen, to try and distract myself from the fact I have to make a public announcement to people who know that not even a year ago I was on the side of Bishop, fighting against Amelie. But I can't manage it, her words going in one ear and out the other without being processed. She just sounds like a mumbled mush of words.

And now it's my turn, my turn to step forwards and explain what Amelie cannot…she's got it absolutely perfect in the speech she gave us, yet she doesn't want to share some of the more pertinent information with the town, not if she doesn't want another civil war (and I think, in all honesty, we've had_ more _than enough of those) to start to overthrow her.

"Hi, everyone," I already start differently to how Amelie said to start. I can feel her gaze boring into the back of me, probably trying to bore holes through me for the informal start by me. "I guess you've got no idea what's going on, right? Well, in the simplest terms that I can make it, this is what's going on.

"Vampires are descended from a group of vampire _elders_, who were the original vampires, with slightly different abilities than the vampires here. Very few direct descendants remain from these…and both Amelie and Sam are descendants of them. There is a gene in their blood that allows them, if they find another vampire with this gene – and exactly five exist in this town – to have a child, if the conditions are right…in this case, it was twins.

"Amelie and Sam have the gene, as well as myself, Myrnin and Michael, the latter being the father to Jennie through the same process, yet it differed slightly for the other was a human, therefore meaning that the process was more…_natural_, if that makes sense. Many conditions lay entwined with these abilities, things even we have yet to discover, and I can honestly say that we know exactly what you know here," I finish, watching the dumbstruck faces of the crowd.

Then one person steps forwards slightly, his head raised to the stage. "Are the children threats? Will they grow up to be blood thirsty monsters, like their parents?" he demands, many of the crowd echoing his question.

I shake my head, smiling slightly. "No, Jennie, Abigail and Jullien are _entirely_ human, with no possibility of this changing. I can assure you, sir, that the children shall never attack their own kind, and shall be raised with other children also."

He nods and steps back into the crowd, nobody else stepping forwards to try and throw a spanner in the works. So, after a long pause, Amelie steps forwards again and I take this as my cue to step back, the crowd applauding me as I do so.

"Magnificent," Myrnin whispers to me, just as Amelie turns to face me with an expression that seems torn between being ridiculously angry and also accepting that I achieved something she didn't think I could achieve.

We listen – well, everyone else listens whilst I look at the crowd to see if they're more accepting of this yet – for another five minutes before Amelie dismisses everyone. She instantly picks up Abigail and shakes her.

"Why is she not waking?" she demands of Myrnin, evidently not noticing the fluttering eyelids of her baby daughter.

"Look down, Amelie, and pay more attention," Myrnin simply says, his attention elsewhere which results in his tone being lazy.

She looks at the baby and sees her perfect sapphire eyes are wide open, staring into her mother's. Perhaps this is our cue to leave…?

I take advantage of this and begin to step backwards with Myrnin, but Amelie detracts herself from Abigail to level me off with a cool glance. "You, Claire, directly disobeyed my orders and didn't read what I ordered you to," her beginning doesn't sound promising for me, I must admit. "However, you achieved something that I didn't think we would: peace. I can guarantee that we can now live in a place of pure peace, the environment I want my children to grow up in. So thank you, Claire, though you must know the delight I feel is tainted with the anger for your disobeying of me," she finishes a very long speech with a small smile which I _think_ is directed at Abigail.

Without another word, Myrnin and I walk away from the stage and into the back, where I summon a portal to take us back to our house. I collapse onto the sofa and simply let a small chuckle out, amazed that we've actually done it.

We've got peace in Morganville.

"You hear what she said, honey?" I whisper to Myrnin as his arm goes around me. "We've got peace in Morganville. _Peace_…In _Morganville_. Isn't that fantastic?"

His response is simply to kiss me in a manner akin to before, one that has my body racing within seconds.

Peace could be _good_…

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><p>Please don't favourite or alert without reviewing.<p>

10 reviews to update.


	8. Chapter 8

_Chapter 8:_

Sorry it took a while to update; I've been writing other things and had a lot of school work to be getting on with.

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><p><em>One year later:<em>

_Claire's POV:_

I should have known that it was all too good to be true. Peace is a beautiful thing, something that, in all my time in Morganville, has been a fragile thing, something easily shattered, and it normally lasts perhaps a few weeks. Thus far, we've had almost a year of peace – but I fear that it is merely peace on the _surface_.

Things seem…_strange_ in some ways, I suppose; there are small things occurring in town, little gatherings of people who seem as though they shouldn't notice one another in usual circumstances, and they shouldn't amount to anything…if they were separate, isolated incidents.

"What are you thinking about _now_?" Amelie states coolly, looking at me with a look that reminds me of my very first meeting with her, in that small church. She didn't seem best pleased with me then, when I was interrupting her in there, and it's even more so now…this is a look I have become even _more_ familiar with over the past months.

Peace is something that means that Amelie has basically thought, "oh yes, let's pile everything onto _Claire_, so I can be a mother; she's not got anything important to do, has she?" and then proceeded to offload every possible job onto me. It's almost as if she's forgotten that I am still a scientist, so always have more to learn (or, according to Myrnin, when he is in a 'I'm a superior scientist' mood, _everything_ to learn), am _still_ in training with Oliver – something of which the novelty wore off quite some time ago, let me assure you of that – and, perhaps the most important thing of all, I'm married. My marriage is something that has been put on the backburner of late, due to this need of Amelie's to make use of her naming of me as her 'new leader' when she was back in that sort of dream-world, and it's getting to the point where I may as well _live_ in this office of hers, since I never leave it.

"I'm thinking that maybe, just maybe, I may get to go home today," I say, slightly snappier than I mean to. Whilst this whole 'mellow Amelie' thing has sort of continued – improved further by the fact that her children actually sleep through the night, pretty much – I have never been able to get away with this tone of voice in conjunction with her…and I doubt that today is going to be the day that this changes.

An eyebrow slowly lifts on one side as she observes me coolly, a pen twisting in her fingers slightly; small things, but, when it's Amelie, those small movements matter. "Whatever is the matter, Claire? Surely you're not trying to send me a _message_, are you, with your attitude?"

"Well, you seem to be coping just fine with your job again now, so I'm officially saying that I'm quitting this timeshare role thing we've got going, where I do all the work, and I'm returning to go see what mess Myrnin has managed to conjure up in the lab over the past year," I sigh, standing up and waiting to see what she's going to say.

It doesn't seem as if it's a surprise to Amelie that I'm saying this; a smile graces her lips for a short moment before then disappearing once more, her expression neutral as she looks at me once again. "I should have recognised that this was coming sooner," she murmurs, almost to herself, and it seems as though she's almost…forgotten that I'm here. Even though I've _just_ spoken to her, she's spaced out into this little dream world where she likes to live every now and then – though if she ever goes back to that dream world where she told me she was giving up, she's getting a slap – and that's more than slightly annoying.

There's a look in her eyes, however, that startles me slightly. It's not desperation for me to stay, no, but more…more _fear_. It's well hidden, almost entirely hidden if I'm honest, yet she's not able to wholly hide the level of panic in her eyes that has me instantly aware of the fact that she's hiding something. She's never been able to hide _everything_, it's just dependant on how well you know her as to whether or not you figure it out – and how close to her you are as to whether you _want_ her to know that you're aware she's keeping something hidden.

"Uh…Amelie?" I have to say her name to watch her shoulders move slightly before she turns to face me, her eyes entirely guarded.

"Feel free to leave, Claire, I shall not stop you," she says slowly, her voice distant and uncaring, it seems. "You do, after all, have your own life to lead and I have been selfish as of late, when I have not needed you. It was not right."

"Amelie…" I begin to protest, yet she levels me off with eyes of grey steel that are unwavering in their strength.

"Go," she orders me, her tone changing to become recognisable as an order. "You wished to leave, therefore you ought to leave. Go do some work about something that nobody particularly cares about. _I'll_ run the town, try and avoid—" she cuts herself off abruptly, as though she's just realised what she's said and how she sincerely needed to have stopped talking three seconds before she did.

"Try and avoid _what_?" I ask, yet those unforgiving and unyielding eyes seem to intensify on my face as she wants me to leave. "You know I'll figure it out, Amelie. I always do." I try everything, even threatening her as she stands up and walks towards me; there's something about her that makes her seem more than ten feet tall, an aura that gives me goosebumps, even as a vampire.

"There is nothing to 'figure out' as you said, Claire," she tells me, her voice low and cool. "You will _go home_ and do whatever you desire there and _not meddle in my affairs_. I need not explain myself to _you_; you do as _I_ tell you. Do I make myself perfectly clear?" emphasising way too many words in there, I've pretty much got the impression that Amelie's pissed at me. So maybe it's best to just apologise and go and pretend to be just going home to work in the lab a bit.

"Sorry," I mumble, walking towards the portal in the corner of the room without waiting for another word to come out of her mouth. Not that I think it is, however, since it seems pretty firmly closed as she tries to prevent leaking more valuable information – valuable to me, at least – out from her little position of power. Evidently she's been doing something without me knowing, as I ran the more mundane side to the town, and there's no way that it's staying hidden for much longer.

_~x~_

"Myrnin?" I call the name of my husband loudly, though I'm pretty sure I've got an idea where he'll be: there's a _very_ small chance he could be sitting in the living room and watching reruns of Top Gear, for he's found this to be his new "human" obsession of late…or he's, most likely, in the lab and conducting experiments he knows I want to do, but just aren't present for.

Arguments throughout the past year have focused on the way that he's just ploughed ahead with whatever we're supposed to have done _together_, in opposition to waiting for me, along with then his creating of situations that are hazardous to humans…more than once, there have been extreme levels of CO in the laboratory to the extent that even _I _felt slightly off balance for a short while. Then there's also been the whole "how long I've been working" thing, which I think is rather impressive, meaning that we've argued probably about half the time that we've been together in the past twelve months.

A record that I hope to set straight once again now that I no longer have to pretty much live chained to Amelie's desk – that's the issue, it wasn't even _my_ desk! – and can actually see him outside of the odd experiment I manage to turn up for.

He appears before me, his shirt, naturally, billowing in the chest area, for he's never going to modernise and wear a shirt that actually buttons up the front, is he? That's just unrealistic to dream of, so let's not go there. His expression changes from one of relative boredom – one that worries me, for if this is how he greets me from "work" after less than two years of being together, then I worry for just where we're going to end up – to something more along the lines of confusion as to why I'm actually here.

"You've remembered where you live?" he asks, trying to joke with me, though it isn't particularly amusing.

Rolling my eyes, I quicken my pace forwards to be standing before him in less than a second, bumping into his chest as I forget to stop. Not that I _could_ fall over anyway, yet Myrnin's arms still wrap around me, pulling me closer into him.

"I missed you," I murmur, not sure why I'm actually saying this, for I _did_ see him this morning, but it's almost as if I never say it. We've not been in-sync for a long time now, not since Abigail and Jullien were born, and it's the first time that I can remember feeling wholly at home in his arms.

"You were only gone two hours," he laughs very slightly, his tone lilting with that faint Welsh accent that only ever is exacerbated by certain vowel sounds. "Something which is a record, given the current rate that Amelie works you at," he continues, a slight edge creeping into his voice that gives me an indication that, unless I diffuse the situation instantly, an argument could be on the way. Well, not an _argument_, but more a differing opinion that leaves a stale atmosphere hanging for a few days…a situation I cannot wait to be rid of, since I'll actually see him again.

"Actually," I say slowly, stressing the former part of the word, "I quit. So I'm not being her dog's body anymore and I'm going to be able to see you, rather than just every so often."

As I look up, his face is brighter than a child's on Christmas Day; it doesn't take much to please Myrnin sometimes, and this is something that evidently pleases him so greatly that he doesn't even need to work up a smile to slide onto his face – it's already there.

One hand of his reaches up and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear as his dark brown eyes linger uncertainly on my face; there's an air of doubt in there, as though he doesn't believe that Amelie won't be recalling me back into the office anytime soon, and it sends a pang of guilt through me…for he doesn't believe me. The man I love doesn't seem convinced that there isn't a way that I'm going to be forced to return to Amelie's office and work for her, rather than stay with him and make him understand that we're never going to be apart, for we're perfect for one another.

"Really?" he asks, his fingers now lingering on my skin near to my ear, moving in slow, rhythmic patterns that don't do anything to prevent me getting distracted.

"Really," I breathe in response, my own hands moving up towards his neck. "It's just going to be you, me and science, Myrnin, as it's always been. As it _should_ have been for these last months, yet I let Amelie rope me into something that I didn't want because I felt guilty that she had to run the town _and_ raise children. I'm sorry."

He smiles again, the movement making his face light up in a way that is unique to Myrnin: there's nobody else in whom the devil and the angel can shine together at the same time; the devil always stands out in someone as dark and mysterious as Myrnin, for there is no way that I could ever dream that I can understand him, yet, when he smiles, the part of him that merely wanted this life for furthering his knowledge, the side to him that could never be faulted, stands out greater than any other time.

A beat of silence is soon broken when his lips descend onto mine, a shared hunger between us that drives a frenzied nature to be added to the kiss. I deepen the kiss as his arms wrap more tightly around me, wondering why I've been bothering to do anything but kiss him for the past year, since it's been driving me insane to be unable to do this whenever I want to. It's a carnal lust, something feral and deep, a desire that makes me want to drag him upstairs right now and remember why we've always been so in-sync.

Unfortunately, as soon as I begin to concentrate on kissing him and push everything else out of my mind, the opposite happens. The quibble about just _what_ Amelie has been doing, whilst I thought she was just spending time at home, returns to the forefront of my mind – and no matter how hard I try to force the thoughts out to the side of my mind, to be contemplated later, they refuse. It takes all my efforts to remember what I'm doing, that I'm actually with the man I love and not dreaming of it, and that I _really_ ought to be focusing on him.

But I can't.

It's impossible for me to stay here, to spend time with Myrnin – or even just do experiments, something I've been craving for goodness knows how long – because there's no way that I can think of anything but Amelie's mysteriousness. There's got to be more than just her involved; Sam, at least, has to have an inkling about what she's worried about, because who else would she have been able to spend time with? I sincerely doubt that she would be choosing to spend excessive time with _Oliver_, given that their relationship has never been the simplest, and there are no other trustworthy vampires outside of our close knit group – trustworthy to share the secrets and worries of the town, I mean – so she must be keeping it close to her chest.

Within another minute or two, we've both realised that I'm not exactly focusing as I right well should be, and we both cease the kiss simultaneously, yet remained tightly wrapped around one another.

"What are you thinking about?" Myrnin asks me, his voice surprisingly soft as his eyes stare directly into mine. There's nothing argumentative about the way he's talking, which is a change from the past few months because every time I've been pre-occupied, he's presumed it has been to do with Amelie or running the town (it has) and that has just been the spark to ignite the argument. That's not the case today, something which brings change to the monotonous problem we've had recently, of arguing.

"I…Amelie's keeping something from us, Myrnin," I decide to include him in this, and if she _has_ told him something, he can tell me.

Within a second, his body has tensed, his eyes meeting mine unsurely; there's a sense of worry, panic, as though something he never thought could happen _has_.

"I thought _you_ knew something," he whispers, and I get the briefest insight into his twisted and confused mind, the one that has been warped and changed by centuries of worry and distress. "I…I have seen that there is something wrong with her; she's being much more guarded than usual, even with the limited time I see her nowadays. I just…I presumed…"

"_That's_ why you've been so snappy." It all makes sense now, to me; he's been moody when I haven't told him anything about what's going on, because he thought that I know what's wrong with Amelie, and yet deigned not to tell him! He thinks that I would have kept something like this from him, when…when I suppose that I worried that _he_ had been privy to knowledge I hadn't. "I would have told you if it was something like _this_, Myrnin. And I suppose you don't know, either?"

He nods slowly, his brows furrowing into confusion, in opposition to the relaxing I would have thought he would have done, knowing we hadn't been keeping secrets from each other. "No, I don't. Each time I try to mention it, she changes the topic to cutting my budget, and then informing me that I would have to talk to _you_ about it or pay for it myself, even though it's for the _town_," this gives me further insight: he's been embarrassed to have to come to me and ask for money from the town budget, because why am _I_ the leader? Why _was_ I the leader, rather, as I no longer have that title.

I hesitate for a moment before carrying on, deciding that we can always discuss the latter issue later, when there isn't the issue that there could be something going on with the town, something that neither of us have been privy to.

"Well, this isn't good, is it?" I mutter, half to myself, half to him, even though there's never a chance of being able to speak without him hearing me. Ever. "I think we need to be having a little chat with Amelie, shouldn't we?" I'm all for the direct approach, going straight to the lion's mouth, so to speak, yet the crinkle between Myrnin's eyebrows suggests to me that he's about to disagree.

"My sweet…perhaps it would…be of more _benefit_ for us to find out in more roundabout ways, in opposition to going directly to Amelie," he's cautious with how he words things, his grip on me not slackening whatsoever. "If we go directly to her, she will merely clam up and refuse to give us any information: that is what has always happened. No, you must go about it in a manner that means that she does not know; it cannot be me, because I have no tact, apparently." He smiles as he says the last part, and I can tell that it's merely something that Amelie has told him previously, yet I do agree with her. He doesn't have tact; he doesn't do anything to try and hide what he wants to know within words…whereas I have acquired this ability to be discreet as I request for information I ought not to know.

"You're ok with that?" I confirm, wanting to make sure that he doesn't change his mind about being present when I find someone to discuss this with, because that's a typically Myrnin thing to do.

"Absolutely," he replies, a smile on his lips that fades almost instantly: one of those merely temporary expressions of happiness that can only seem faked. It's almost enough to weaken my decision, before he adds, "I don't want to be privy to how you find the information; I merely want to know what I can do _when_ we know something."

If it's anything like before, when she was pregnant, then we're pretty screwed: it took myself, Myrnin _and_ Oliver to save her, creating a sort of power sharing system across town that doesn't seem to have been put into complete operation…wait. If there happened to be one other vampire who she isn't related to who she could trust, would it not be Oliver? Oliver, the vampire she's known the longest (besides Myrnin) and has shared many, many experiences with…surely he'd be the perfect person to inform?

It almost seems too perfect: not only do I have a chance to discover some information, I can actually do it this afternoon, given that I have a training session with Oliver. It seems too orchestrated to be real, as though this should never be happening in such a synchronised manner as to actually _get_ this to happen! But I don't quarrel with myself – I've been given a bone, after all, a chance to get the information sorted sooner rather than later.

"Then I'll have something this afternoon, hopefully, when I've been to see Oliver," I reveal my plans to go see Oliver, to discuss Amelie as we train, because apparently I'm still too weak to be a relatively strong fighter, even though Michael was allowed in the war with Bishop. I don't find it fair, especially since I have the whole "nobody trying to kill me can kill me" thing that still rocks on – at least I hope it does – and I sincerely doubt that my enemies would know of this as we fought, yet we cannot be too careful, apparently.

"You think Oliver knows something?"

I shrug, releasing myself from Myrnin's arms as it seems befitting to do so. "Yep. I think so, anyway; she hasn't spoken to us two about it, I doubt she'll have told Theo, and probably not even Sam, if she was trying to protect him. The only alternative is Oliver."

Myrnin's eyebrows pinch together in the middle again, this time concern for me flooding the expression in his normally unreadable eyes. It's as though seeing me here, in comparison to much later, has broken through the emotional barrier that has risen between us in the intervening months between the birth of Amelie's children and now: who knew it would take so little?

"I'm…I'm concerned for your safety; if _Oliver_ is involved with whatever is going on, then…" he trails off as I give him a look that I think involves looking as though he is worse than chewing gum on my shoe.

"I don't need to be scared of Oliver, Myrnin, and neither do you," I inform him gently. "I can fight him off, I know I can, and why would it come to that? I'll be inquiring subtly, trying to find out if he's even been _speaking_ to Amelie recently, before then considering probing further. Maybe he won't know anything – we don't have a clue what he knows and what he doesn't, so I'll be careful. Promise."

He smiles again, this time more of a genuine one, a smile tinged with sadness and regret as well as the pre-requited happiness a smile usually entails. "I love you, Claire. Don't forget that, as you show him how good you are."

"Believe me, I plan on it."

**~x~**

Unfortunately, my period of very little training has left me in a worse state than I was before I took control of Morganville; for short distances, my stamina seems limitless, as a vampire's ought to, but engaging in combat with Oliver reminds me that only my brain knows what it's doing. My body has forgotten, long neglected nerve passages taking their time to move my legs into immediate action when there is the danger of a predator nearby.

"You've been slipping, Claire," Oliver comments dryly, standing beside a pillar in this training room to the back of Common Grounds as he waits for me to stand up.

"That's because I've been running a town; I don't think _Amelie_ ever really got exercise, did she?" I shoot back acerbically, realising the potential to dig for some information here.

"_Amelie_ is the oldest vampire in the world; we are all trying to compete to reach the level she has achieved – and can maintain – without having to partake in training, Claire."

"Well I've been doing other stuff, alright?" I'm still defensive as I talk, yet he doesn't really seem to notice. "I've been doing everything for her, for ages…have you seen her recently?" it's not as subtle as I wanted, yet it does the job, since Oliver doesn't seem to notice anything wrong when he replies.

"Sometimes. She drops by to reminisce about the old days, the days when we faced those who fought from within, like Troy," he comments, the reference to the old war meaning nothing to me. Evidently there's either something more going on, here, or she really is trying to remember her old life.

"And…Oliver, can I ask you a question?" as I begin to ask another thing, I get the most awful thought in my head. Reminiscing about what happened the other year, when Amelie pretended to have an affair with Oliver to cover the rehearsals for the play Myrnin put on for me…but what if, this time, it's for real? What if the reason she comes here, to Oliver, isn't to reminisce over what has happened, but rather over what variation her feelings have had over the years, with their fluctuating interests…and what if she's decided that she loves Oliver as much as Sam?

"If you must." There's a touch of desperation in Oliver's voice, desperation to get back to the training, and that immediately arouses suspicion in me.

"Are you having an affair with Amelie?"

_This_ shocks him. For a full minute, he stares at me in absolute shock, his eyes betraying the depth to which this question has stunned him: whatever he expected the question to be, it wasn't this.

Then, very slowly, he begins to gather his wits together. The confusion disperses, and is instead replaced by an amused expression, his lips parting to allow a guttural laugh through that stuns _me_ this time, because I would never have thought that he would have laughed to what I asked him.

"Evidently, you have forgotten why you have been running Morganville, Claire," he replies through the laughter. "Neither of us have a romantic interest in the other, as shown by the fact that she has managed to acquire herself a family. Something I could never have given her, not that I would have wanted to; you should remember that you accused us of this before, and we laughed it off then. Why would it become anymore likely, when things have only transpired in the way that they were meant to run?"

I don't answer for a moment, unsure what to say to his explanation. There is no chance of an affair; it was a stupid suggestion, I get that. But…but there's a sense that his laughter is _too_ manic, almost, that he's trying to hide something in his eyes beneath the crazed sense of too much laughter.

It's not an affair, but he knows what's going on with Amelie, and I am determined to find out what is going on.

"Um…well…ok then, let's train." I decide that it's best to carry on the training in opposition to questioning him further. There would be no purpose in losing him as a source of information, would there?

**.**

Throughout the rest of the afternoon, I come to the conclusion that it is merely a doubt that Oliver knows something further, so I should keep this from Myrnin. He doesn't need to know that Oliver _may_ know something, for then he would harass him until the cows come home – a problem since there _are_ no cows in Morganville. No, he does not need to know, not until there is some concrete evidence that Oliver knows something – what's concrete is also a fluid term as well, since I may have to adjust it slightly.

Whilst I come to this conclusion, Oliver discusses random things, yet his tone seems to get more intense for a moment, only to return to overly normal when I just begin to notice. After this happens a few times, I get the impression that he's accidentally slipping up, talking about a field and some humans and then some pigs – if I never see another living pig, I'd be grateful, after what happened in the past with them – but nothing makes any sense to me. I'd need to fill in a lot more holes than I have before I could even get near to figuring it out.

"We're done," Oliver says dismissively after a few more hours. I guess it's approaching seven pm, since there's no clock in this back room, and this theory is confirmed when I return to the room before his office, which is – handily – equipped with a clock on the wall in the corner.

"Good. I've had enough of your company for a lifetime." I'm snappy as I talk to him, resentful of the many escape attempts I tried to make that he foiled wearing a _blindfold_. It's not fair. Just because he didn't tell me that the boxes were rigged with devices that would trap me in the bottom of them all doesn't mean that he could use that against me!

"The feeling is mutual," he shoots back, rolling his eyes as he locks the door.

We walk back towards his office together, the door slightly ajar to make it easier to slip out, when he suddenly freezes mid-breath. I, myself, take a deeper breath, yet smell nothing out of the ordinary, besides for a vampire's scent…which I don't think I've smelled before…yet I've not met _every _vampire in Morganville, right? Maybe this is one here to try and renege on a dodgy deal with Oliver, or something. You never know, with this one's past.

Yet he doesn't seem to want to move, even when I try to budge him along. It takes my yelling at him to get him to even look at me, by which time I realise that I've alerted our visitor to our presence in here.

It only takes three or four seconds for the door to be opening, and for a young looking vampire – only slightly older than me, I think, about the twenty mark – to enter, her face twisted into an approximation of a smile.

"You've had me waiting for three hours, Oliver," she tells him, and I instantly pick up her English accent. Of course: Oliver has a girlfriend – why else would he be frozen? – that he probably left in England, and now she's back. "And you _know_ that I don't like to be kept waiting, right?"

He doesn't say anything for a long while, leaving me to eye up the visitor slowly; she doesn't look a threat to me, doesn't seem to want to harm me, which makes a change. Then, finally, he speaks.

"Vitzy. What are you _doing_ here?"

To this, there's only silence.

* * *

><p>Please don't favourite or alert without reviewing, thanks.<p>

The crux of the story is about to begin, I hope!


	9. Chapter 9

Meh, I don't really update this. Sorry.

* * *

><p><em>Chapter 9:<em>

_Claire's POV:_

Standing in Oliver's office, opposite the female vampire who I've never seen before, is pretty disturbing. Add into the equation _Oliver_ knows her, she seems pretty mad that he kept her waiting _and_ she's new in town…this can't spell out anything good. Worst case scenario: her plan is to, with Oliver, overthrow Amelie and try and pull a Bishop. Best case scenario: she's just a nice, normal person, besides for loving Oliver, and she's here to try and be a godmother to one of Amelie's children. That would be a nice change, to be honest, because all the fighting? All it does is give me a headache.

"Um, hi," I find myself saying, keen to break the silence that only seems to grow and grow. Perhaps it's just in my head that it's getting more and more awkward, or maybe that there's a desire for the two of them to be alone, but it is definitely something that requires me to break the silence. As soon as I speak, the raven haired female vampire turns her head in my direction, her lips twisted into a smile that doesn't seem right. After all, do vampires _normally_ smile at people they want to kill?

Too late after thinking this, I remember that _I_ am a vampire, and generally, vampires don't kill other vampires.

"Hello," the vampire – Vitzy, I think her name is – replies.

"My name is—" I begin to introduce myself, but Vitzy lets out a laugh that startles me, and holds a hand up to make me stop.

"I know _exactly_ who you are, Claire," she says, an amused edge to her tone. "You are very widely spoken of in this town, young one. I just am yet to see…whether this is a good thing, or not."

As she speaks, Oliver somehow manages to unfreeze himself, his eyes managing to tear themselves from Vitzy's face and I notice him giving me a brief look of disdain. Evidently, our dysfunctional relationship ceases to be of any interest to him when the girl he's loved for however long – _now_ I see how utterly absurd it is for him and Amelie to be having an affair – has returned to his presence, and is in Morganville…wait…how does she know who I am?

Before I can ask this, however, Oliver speaks. "That isn't an answer, Vitzy, and you know it." Something about his tone suggests that he isn't going to take no for an answer – or any further evasion from the question – and, yet, it almost seems as though this _isn't_ their first time of meeting in the past however many hundred years it's probably been. It sounds stupid…but it almost seems as though it is being staged. That's not possible, though. I mean, _Oliver_ has never acted like this before, not even when he heard that Amelie was dying, so I don't know why I would think he would be a good enough actor to fake meeting his long-ago girlfriend. At least, I _presume_ that they once dated; someone wouldn't come by for Oliver and _wait_ without having been involved with him would they?

"I am quite well aware of that, Oliver," she says in response, the same humorous edge to her tone. "I'm here because I grew bored, roaming the streets of London alone. You _promised_ that you would be coming back, and you never did. So I decided to find you. And I discovered that my dear sister, Amelie, is alive."

Whoa. Sister of _Amelie_? Or is this the vampire sire sister thing, like between that other blonde – Naomi, I think it was – and Amelie, because that would make more sense. Amelie shares _nothing_ in common, features wise, with this girl, so the latter does make more sense.

"Ah," Oliver says, as though it explains everything. "You have been to see Amelie already, naturally."

"Of course," Vitzy replies, and the attitude she has, it almost seems as though she's _from_ this time period. With her outfit, her attitude and her mannerisms, it almost seems as though she _is_; either she's not a very old vampire and so therefore decided that the modern day is better than dressing like a nutter, or she's very old and decided that blending in is good and it's just gotten a bit more permanent than she wanted, but I don't really care why. She's pretty normal, and though that probably makes her more dangerous, to me, it makes her seem much more approachable and less likely to kill me.

"What did she say in regards to your presence in Morganville?" Oliver asks, an almost shiver running through him, before he lifts one of his hands and begins to fidget as a human normally would. "I take it she was…_surprised_."

"More than surprised; I think she would have had a heart attack, if it wasn't for her heart being immobile," Vitzy laughs, herself moving to take one of the seats in front of Oliver's desk. The way she sits is pretty modern, unlike Amelie's careful positioning – she's definitely not _that_ old. "However, I cannot say that her grip on one of those children – the girl, I think – was particularly suggestive that she _wants_ her children to live longer than the early stages of infancy."

"And what did she say about you remaining in Morganville?" it's almost as if I'm not here, because the conversation between the two vampires is completely segregated – I'm left out of it, now that Vitzy has mentioned that she knows who I am. "Are you to be given a home, or anything specific?"

"I have arranged to have a flat in the estate in the northern sector of the town, and I've already managed to procure a car," she replies, her fingernails drumming on the desk ever so lightly. "I have no need for you to interrupt and try and sort things out for me, Oliver; I am more than capable of doing it myself."

"I wasn't going—" he begins to protest, sounding slightly…_whiny?_ Is this really Oliver, the hardened Mafia boss, sounding as though he wants to grovel to the woman before him?

I must snort or something, because he soon turns back to face me with a look of disgust on his face – disgust at me or at himself for acting this way with me around, I'm not certain, but he wants me gone. "Alright, alright, I'm going!" I hold my hands up in defeat, walking towards the portal in the corner, because I don't have my car. "Nice meeting you," I direct towards Vitzy, "_certainly_ not nice seeing you, Oliver, and if I see you again before next century, that's a century too soon."

Whatever he mutters in response, I don't quite catch as I step through space and time to come out in the laboratory area of my house, expecting to see Myrnin here. But no; evidently, he's remembered that there _is_ another part to our home – namely, our _home_ – and he's either there, or not even here, because he's certainly not in the laboratory. The traces of his scent are suggesting to my untrained nose that he hasn't been in here for a good three or four hours – possibly since Amelie met Vitzy for the first time in however long it's been – and that's strange in itself.

"Myrnin, are you here?" I call, knowing I could quite easily ascertain the knowledge by actually _listening_, but that takes too much effort. I'm probably the world's worst vampire, as I never use the senses that are supposed to be heightened, and spend more time acting human than acting as a vampire, but there you have it; there's always one – or more – in every species. "Myrnin!" I yell again, deciding actually to use some senses and listen for him – but no, absolutely nothing.

He's not here.

Part of me wants to go call a search party, because he was supposed to be here, but the rest of me thinks that it's a perfect time to be using the laboratory for experiments I want to do, rather than wait for him to say, "oh yes, well, we're finished doing my fifteen hundredth in a row, so it's finally time for yours." So that's what I'll do; I won't call him and ask him to come home, or even find out where he is – in this town, he's either begging Amelie for money, discussing the visitor, or having a debate about something that happened before I care to consider history beginning – because I want to do something for myself.

_~x~_

As ten pm approaches, I ignite the splint which will test to see whether I've managed to create beryllium dichromate, a substance I've never really seen used (or even, really, heard of) because that's what I challenged myself to make. I've had three failed attempts thus far, and part of me wants to admit defeat and to ask Myrnin if it's possible, but I'm determined to do something entirely by myself. I don't need someone to tell me if it'll work or not, because I can find that out, but it's getting quite annoying, the way that the power keeps dodging up just when I want to use the Bunsen burner to set the substance on fire.

"It isn't going to work, you know." the voice of Myrnin startles me slightly, and I involuntarily jump into the air, the splint burning out.

"How long have you been standing there?" I demand, lifting the substance in the pot into my hand, in order to prevent anything being thrown along the desk at it, which is always possible in this laboratory, for some reason. The way that Myrnin is standing, leaning against the door suggests that he's been there for quite some time, as well as the cocked eyebrow.

"Long enough to know that you're trying to make something and are going to fail _quite_ miserably," he replies, causing me to sigh loudly. "Whatever is the matter, dear one?"

I don't reply, merely relight the splint and dip it into the solution, but no, nothing. I've failed again. Something tells me that I can blame Myrnin for failing this experiment, simply because he interrupted me – damn science and logic, because if there's something he can take the rap for, he most certainly will. "It's all _your_ fault!" I try to make my voice whine, setting the beaker down on the lab bench as I move across to Myrnin. "If it wasn't for you, I would have—"

"Failed anyway," he finishes for me, though uses completely different words to what I would have used. As I move nearer, he moves away from the door and reaches out to pull me into his arms, his lips pressing into my hair. "How are you, my darling? Did you discover anything from Oliver?"

I hesitate for a moment, though hopefully not a perceptible pause, because I plaster a rueful smile on my face and shake my head. "No, not about Amelie, or anything that could be going on in the town," I say, and he looks dejected – evidently, his hopes were built up to be knowing something now that he didn't know before. There _is_ something going on, but I'm not going to tell Myrnin without there being more substantial proof.

"I know nothing either; I have spent the entire evening with Amelie and Samuel, pretending to _enjoy_ one of those brats clambering all over me, and it has fruited no information other than something about a vampire I doubt you know." he sighs deeply, frustration evident in his tone, and I smile ever so slightly.

"You mean Vitzy?" I ask, and watch as his head shoots up in confusion, looking me in the eyes. "I met her earlier, when she came over to see Oliver. Is that not good?"

As soon as I mention Oliver's name, a grimace slides onto Myrnin's face, and I get the feeling that it's something to do with Oliver and Vitzy. Maybe they're the dream team – the dream team for destroying rulers, that is. And that would mean that they would be fighting to destroy Amelie.

"Is that not good?" he repeats my question, a slight edge to his voice. "Oh, that is, potentially, _very_ not good, Claire. I cannot say whether they are disloyal whatsoever, and you say there is little sign of it, but if they _are_, then that could spell disaster for life as we know it."

I shiver as he murmurs in my ear, "even you could be destroyed, beautiful Claire. Everything could burn."

I won't lie that this scares me more than slightly.

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	10. Chapter 10

_Chapter 10:_

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><p><em>Claire's POV:<em>

So, basically, if we don't discover if Oliver and Vitzy are up to something – and possibly other people – we could all die. In fairness, there is a good chance that Oliver and the new girl _aren't_ doing anything; after all, what would he stand to achieve if he did? He knows that I would destroy him, somehow, and that there would be nothing for him to take over, for humans and vampires alike would rather destroy their homes (and possibly even their lives) rather than be subjected to his rule. I cannot say that Oliver is most definitely behind whatever seems to be different in town, and since I couldn't glean any information from him, maybe I should stop looking at him as though he's guilty; this country is founded on "guilty until proven innocent" but perhaps I ought to take the other approach.

Innocent until proven guilty.

He has this newcomer to deal with – someone who evidently is more than just a friend to him – and I'm pretty sure that he'll be consumed with Vitzy for the majority of the near future, so maybe, just maybe, I shouldn't be looking at Oliver whatsoever; maybe past prejudices and animosity has caused me to assume he'll be part of it. After all, for all I know, it could be an automatic robot who is organising something to have Amelie worried; it need not _always_ be another vampire's fault. Maybe I should be looking into the human side of things.

"Are you alright, Claire?" Myrnin's voice startles me, and I realise that I've slipped into a reverie after he told me that we could all die.

"Yes…just thinking," I reply evasively, continuing to stare into space until Myrnin pulls me around to look into his eyes. He's worried, and when something is bad enough for Myrnin to be worried, we should all be. "Well…I just thought, what if it _isn't_ Oliver? What if we're just being prejudiced because of his past?"

And now the worry in Myrnin's eyes turns into a more mix-up between contemplation and scepticism. "Yet he has been behind most of the things of the past, is that not correct?" he argues, yet I shake my head.

"Actually, _no_," I reply. "He's actually been on _our_ side more than he hasn't, which seems hard to believe. And this girl, she doesn't seem as though she wants to be a pain in the backside, which makes a change for Morganville. Basically, I think we need to look at this from the angle that it _isn't_ involving Oliver. And if I'm wrong, then yes, you can gloat about how you're right and I'm wrong for as long as you feel fit." I make sure to add the end bit as Myrnin's mouth opens, most likely to have added that as a clause for our abandoning of Oliver as a possible suspect for attacking Morganville.

"That _wasn't_ what I was going to—oh, alright then," he begins to lie, yet one look from me makes him shake his head and give up. "We'll forget Oliver. Just, the issue is now, _who_ would want to destroy Morganville? It's obviously something of this magnitude – Amelie doesn't slip up in appearances with _me_ for anything less – and so what could be so important that she knows exactly what is going on, yet doesn't dare to do anything against it?"

I shake my head and sigh, pulling away from Myrnin to begin clearing up the remnants of my failed experiment. "I don't know, Myrnin. But let me assure you of this: I'm determined to find out."

The look on his face as I turn back to face him, glass shards in my hand, tells me that he agrees, and that there's no way we're giving up without finding out what's going on. And really? I wouldn't expect anything less from us.

_~x~_

Things seem…different in Morganville. It isn't that the physical appearance is any different, not at all, but…the atmosphere. It's almost like it was when Bishop controlled Morganville – for the first time – and nobody knew what was wrong, really, but that there was _something_ not right about the place. Perhaps a little more low key today, but the philosophy is the same, and it scares me; if _I_ can sense this, then it must be pretty obvious, and there seems to be an almost 'I know but I will never tell' manner to every human who walks past me.

As I stand in the shade beneath the canopy of the bakery, I begin to notice things: people who normally _would_ stand still and chat, aren't. Some people are gathering in the corner of the square for a few seconds and then walk off in opposite directions. There are even some people who seem to be handing things to others – it wouldn't normally be suspicious (it isn't as though we live in North Korea) not at all, but when they're two people you would never expect to even acknowledge one another, let alone be friends, then you begin to worry.

Things are happening which I wouldn't normally expect to occur, and whilst they wouldn't cause me concern if they were mutually exclusive, with everything happening together, it's sort of scaring me.

Myrnin's mentality with regards to Oliver is really starting to rub off, too. Whilst I want to see the best in him, see that he really is on our side—like he showed me when he stood with Amelie against Bishop not once, but twice—it's growing harder and harder to believe. The doubts shown by Amelie have only been visible to me since a change in Oliver became obvious; the arrival of his girlfriend (for want of a better word because I sincerely doubt that a _girlfriend_ is what Oliver has) has only appeared to make things worse in Morganville, given that Myrnin's attempts to gain knowledge from Amelie were hampered by her almost…fear of this Vitzy arriving. I personally don't feel as though she's a threat or someone who could destroy Morganville, but then again, what do I know? I've never met her before. Myrnin and Amelie know what she's capable of, they've seen what she did before. All I know about her is that she has developed her fashion sense to fit in with the modern day idea of what fashion is, and that she seemed nice.

However, I have to give him a chance. I'm not Myrnin, after all, nor do I hold the prejudices against Oliver that Myrnin does; Oliver hasn't proven to me that he is an enemy, therefore for the moment, he will remain to be an ally. And allies often give away information that they don't mean to…_particularly_ about people who are new to town and evidently have connections with them.

With nothing else to do, I head towards Common Grounds, hoping that Vitzy isn't in the office with Oliver. It would be helpful to get to know her in order to see whether or not she is a threat or not, but it wouldn't exactly help me attempting to find out just who she is; Oliver isn't going to give away trade secrets when the person is there, is he?

Having ordered a coffee with the barrista on the till, I wait for it at the other end of the counter before heading towards the office. Without fail, I know Oliver will be here; I can hear something from his office that sounds like his stupid humming, and if he isn't out on the shop floor, he's almost one hundred percent guaranteed to be in the office.

I open the door without knocking and wait for the barrage of insults—or at least just an evil glare—from Oliver to begin, but I'm surprised. There isn't even a negative word from Oliver. "Shut the door, please, Claire, I'm hungry and I don't want to smell the food out there." Whilst I disagree with the idea of calling humans _food_, for Oliver, this is positively euphoric an introduction, particularly with me not even knocking for him to let me come in.

"This is a first," I say, unable to help myself; I want an explanation for why he's being so nice. "Normally when I barge in here you either yell at me to get out, insult me as I sit down, or throw an insult about Myrnin—or all three. What's brought on the sudden Mr Nice Guy?" I wink at him, trying to get across the reason why I think he's being nice, when his expression turns to one of horror.

"That is potentially one of the most disgusting things that your modern day brain has ever concluded, and I wish that I could erase that from my mind," he mutters, shaking his head in disgust. _This_ reaction interests me. My mind has jumped to him and Vitzy, and either his has as well and this really isn't the sort of relationship they have, or he's gone to something completely different and has the wrong end of the stick with regards to my wink.

"Are you going to tell me anything then, or are you just going to leave me with a confused mental state?" I respond quickly. "Before you say anything about my mental state anyway, let me remind you that I'm cleverer than you, and that I can twist your words to mean anything—and believe me when I tell you that if I tell Myrnin that you've said something inappropriate to me, he'll be on the phone to Amelie faster than you can make a cup of coffee."

Oliver smiles slightly, a smile of amusement and something else, something I can't quite understand. "I can make a coffee extraordinarily fast, but that's by the by. My response to your question is this: no, I am not going to tell you anything else about Vitzy. That is her business, after all; I am merely a part of her life story."

I sigh. This is evidently not going to turn out in the manner I expected it to—me tricking Oliver into giving me an abundance of information about Vitzy—so why I'm even still here is beyond me.

"So you're basically saying that you're not going to tell me anything about the girl who turned up mysteriously and even has Amelie worried, is that right?" I clarify this with Oliver, deciding that if he confirms this, I'll not only walk out but I'll throw the coffee over his head as well.

"That is correct, yes," Oliver replies. "_However_, before you storm out, as you females seem to enjoy doing, let me give you this hint: there are the vampire archives. Vitzy may not have been in Morganville for the past two hundred years but she was indeed part of some people's memoirs—and I know for certain that there are three people who knew her. Of those three people, one person knows her true identity, and the links she has to people today."

So basically, Oliver's refusing to tell me directly who Vitzy is, but he's pretty much told me where to get it from: the vampire archives, within his personal accounts.

Never before would I have said that Oliver _kept_ a diary, let alone that he would allow someone else (namely myself and Myrnin) to read it.

"Got any restrictions before I go in and read your memoirs about life?" I ask, somehow managing to avoid there being any sarcastic—or strangely gleeful—edge to my tone.

"Don't read anything that has the word _Gabriel_ at the top of the page; it's irrelevant and completely pointless," he says immediately, causing me to think that there's something dodgy on those pages. I won't read them, though; if he's giving me access to his personal recollections, that's enough for me.

I can't be certain that _Myrnin _won't be inclined to read them, though.

"Alright, got it," I reply, standing up and taking a sip of my drink. "Thanks, Oliver—I have to say that you've been awfully helpful, telling me all this without even a slightly sarcastic comment. Not to mention the fact that you've been _helpful_."

He smiles once more, this one slightly bitter. "That's because you don't know the whole story about what my life entails, Claire, not to mention the existence of this town. And, in all honesty, I doubt you ever will. Now go before I change my mind about you finding out who Vitzy is."

His words confuse me as I leave the office, heading out through the shop and into the street outside. There's _something_ going on, we already gathered that, but that's the most prominently worded way that it has been confirmed—and from how Oliver was, I'm guessing it's bad. Why else would he have been civil to me?

This isn't my focus for now, though; now, I'm focused on getting to the archives and finding out just _who_ Vitzy is.

_~x~_

Three hours into a search through the vampire archives, and I'm getting bored. There's something about this room and the history I have with it—it wasn't exactly the happiest day of my life when I came and saw Myrnin here—that makes me nervous; there's something about the size of it, and the fact that I have no idea what the indexing system is, that makes me hate it even more than I'm scared of it. In fact, the ordering of the books is so strange and illogical that I somehow manage to get from Roman records to 1912 within the space of about half a metre.

It calls for one thing: Myrnin needs to come down.

I dial Myrnin's number and, unsurprisingly, don't get an answer. He's probably lost his phone again, as seems to be his forte, so rather than try and try again, I change tactics. I'm pretty sure that I can link the archive up to the portal network if I concentrate on adjusting the machine through my mind, so I attempt to do it—an attempt which works out successfully. Within seconds, I have a door in front of me that wasn't there before, one which I open quickly to reveal the laboratory before me.

"Myrnin!" I call out, noticing that he isn't immediately in front of me, which I would have expected. However, within half a second, he's by my side—or, rather, standing about thirty centimetres away from me—his expression confused. "I need your help."

"What with?" he asks, frowning. "Aren't you meant to be talking to Oliver to find out more about our visitor? Why on earth do you need _me _there? I sincerely doubt that the insults would exactly aid him giving us information."

I shake my head frantically, grabbing Myrnin's hand and pulling him through the portal as I begin to speak. "He basically told me that her story is within his personal records—some diaries of some sort—but the only issue is that I can't find them. I don't really understand this system in here, so I've read a _lot_ of diaries in the past couple of hours…just none of them are Oliver's."

Myrnin's expression changes from confusion to one expressing wicked glee within half a second, something which makes me worried. "Oliver has a _diary_?" he repeats, his tone pouring with happiness. "Oh, how I have hoped for something like this! I've wanted to know how he felt about my pranks back then for so long; I can _finally_ mock him for so much more than I already did."

"No," I reply instantly, already firm on this idea in my mind. "_You_ are not reading the diary—or diaries. Whilst I know you'd have a great time and could probably translate his absolutely dire handwriting, you'd insult him based on what he said in the past, and I don't fancy being attacked for letting you have access to his personal thoughts. No, you're merely going to help me _find_ them…and in exchange, I'll give you the odd titbit of information."

The gleeful expression drops from Myrnin's face, replaced instead with a resigned look of acceptance. He isn't happy, I know that, but this is the best option that he's going to get, so I suppose the promise of dirt on Oliver will make him help me; I won't be giving him it all now—he can have a drip feed of information over the next few weeks—which will hopefully make him even happier, never knowing when he's going to find something out about Oliver.

Myrnin disappears around the corner suddenly, not telling me to come with him, which makes me think that he's off to find the section where Oliver's books are. Rather than follow, I sit down, flicking through an account of life in the 16th century by this vampire called Flora; it isn't very interesting, but the suddenness of the end of the diary makes me think that she was murdered before she could finish it.

"Claire! Where are you?" Myrnin's voice calls impatiently through the archive and I sigh loudly, standing up slowly. "I haven't got all day, nor enough patience to stop myself reading this diary if you don't get here in ten—oh, you're here." He changes tact as he suddenly notices me standing next to him, hand outstretched for the diary in his hand.

"Have you opened it?" I ask, looking at him sternly. Myrnin reads so fast that he could potentially have read the entire book within the time it took him to find it and then announce to me that he had found it; it was only maybe thirty seconds, but that's plenty of time for this man.

"Vampire's honour, I didn't read it," Myrnin replies, handing me the book. "The other three are on the shelf behind you. I'm going now, if you won't let me read them; it's too tempting to stay here and want to read them. Make sure you tell me when you find out something; I'll be completing my experiment." His lips press against mine softly for the briefest of seconds, but before I can kiss him back, he's gone, the pressure suddenly no longer there.

I settle down to read the diary, taking slightly more care in the reading of this book than any of the others, due to the fact that the answer could be anywhere within it.

It isn't.

I get rather a lot of jokes out of it that I'll be able to use against Oliver in the future—including how he dressed up as a woman to avoid paying a tax—but there is absolutely nothing about Vitzy in this book.

There isn't anything in the next one either, though there are even more points that I'll be sharing with Myrnin from this one, and I begin to wonder if Oliver's sent me on a wild goose chase as I begin to read the third diary. However, as I began to predict, I find an answer midway through this bound history of the ex-Lord Protector of England, one which stuns me more than I can explain.

This was _not_ what I was expecting.

_Lucy's death continues to haunt me, even three years after her death. I don't think that I will ever find myself able to live without thinking of her in some way or another. This is an issue which has been exacerbated by the arrival of a young girl upon my doorstep, a girl who looks identical to Lucy._

_She appears to be called Verity, and is approaching her nineteenth birthday. Her mother is indeed Lucy, though she was sent to a boarding school far away, which explains why I did not know of her existence prior to this moment. Apparently, she has asked around for the man who her mother described in her letters—I did not know that she had written to anyone explaining about my existence; I suppose it is only fortunate that it was to the daughter, rather than anyone else—and someone who was disenchanted with me (I fear it was Myrnin) told her where to find me._

_I will see her again tomorrow in order to explain certain things about what I am. I fear that she wants me to remain in her life as a sort of parental figure, due to her lack of both father and mother, and I must ensure that she either turns into what I am, so that I can fulfil this request, or she leaves and never returns. It would be rather nice to have someone who wanted me around, rather than me continue to spend time with Myrnin and Amelie, who quite obviously do not care for me; I have missed not having dependents, and it could be rather amusing._

_I will report tomorrow._

_-Oliver. _

Hand over my mouth, I drop the diary onto the table and stand up, slowly moving towards the portal and through it into the laboratory. "Myrnin," I shout. "You're _completely_ not going to believe this…"

He doesn't.

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